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HARVARD  COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

MRS.  MARY  M.  BARCLAY 

□f  St.  Louis,  MiuouH 


DR.  JULIUS  HOWARD  PRATT 

MRS.  LUCY  E.  MCCLELLAND 

Dr.  ROBERT  BARCLAY 


October  14,  1926 


1 


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THE 


X3MPLETE  WORKS 


OF 


ALFRED  TENNYSON, 

POET    LAUR^ATR. 


ILLUSTRATED  EDITION. 


k 


NEW     YORK: 

R.  WORTHINGTON,  750  Broadway. 

1880. 


■  1      ; 


J  I 


^./:os{  . 


^A-^V 


MIV^BOnJlUOttltiilii, 

KU.  HAfiV  a.  SAICLiV 
OCtOltfli  14.  i>it 


PUHTlNa  »ND    BOOKBINDIHG  COHMMT, 


CONTENTS. 


rAov. 

To  the  Qneen v  i  r 

Olarlbel 1 

Ullan 1 

Jsabel 1 

Mariana 2 

To 2 

Madaline li 

Song — The  Owl 3 

Second  Song 3 

RecoP.ection     of     the     Arabian 

Nights 4 

Ode  to  Memory 5 

Song C 

Adeline 6 

A  Character 7 

The  Poet. 7 

ThePoet*BMind 8 

The  Sea-fairies 8 

The  Deserted  House 9 

The  Dying  Swan 9 

A  Dirge 9 

Loye  and  Death 10 

The  Ballad  of  Oriana 10 

Circumstance It 

The  Merman 11 

'rhe  Mermaid 11 

Sonnet  to  J.  M.  K 12 

The  Lady  of  Shalott 12 

Mariana  in  the  South 14 

Ele&nore 15 

The  Miller's  Daughter 16 

Fatima 18 

CEuone 18 

IheSisters 22 

To 22 

Ihe  Palace  of  Art 22 

Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere 26 

The  May  Queen 26 

New-year's  Eve 27 

Conclusion 28 

The  Lotos-Eaters 29 

Choric  Song 29 

A  Dream  of  Fair  Women 31 

Maxmret 34 

TheBlackbird 35 

The  Death  of  the  Old  Year 35 

ToJ.S 3G 


Song :  **  You  ask  me,  why  tho»  ill 

at  ease," 36 

**     **  Of  old  sat  freedom  on  the 

heights," 37 

"     "  Love  thou  thy  land,  with 

love  far-brought " 37 

The  Goose 38 

TlieEpic 38 

Morte  d' Arthur 39 

The  Gardener's  Daughter ;  or  the 

Pictures 43 

Dora 47 

Audley  Court 49 

Walking  to  tlie  Mail 50 

Edwin  Morris ;  or  the  Lake 52 

St.  Simeon  Stylites 54 

The  Talking  Oak 6G 

Ix)ve  and  Duty 59 

The  Golden  Year , 60 

Ulysses ci 

Locksley  Hall, 62 

Godiva 66 

The  Two  Voices 67 

The  Daydream  :— 

Prologue 71 

The  Sleeping  Palace 71 

The  Sleaping  Beauty 72 

The  AiTi  val 72 

The  Revival 72 

The  Departure 72 

Moral 73 

L'Envol 73 

Epilogue 73 

Aniphion 74 

St.  Agnes  Eve 74 

SirGalaliad 75 

Edward  Gray 75 

Will  Waterproof's  Lyrical  Mono- 
logue   76 

To ,  after  reading  a  Life  and 

Letters 78 

To  E.  L.,  on  his  travels  in  Greece  78 

Lady  Clare 78 

The  Lord  of  Burleigh 79 

Sir  Lancelot  and  Queen  Guine-^ 

vere 80 

A  Farewell ^ 


^ 


gl-».VgZ.f7.3 iJ 


iwfivupci)  ccuToc  ttaRiitr 

Hn.  K«IV  M.  MMUV 


Pkuitinc  and  Book  bin  Dtnc  Compatit, 


CONTENTS. 


rAov. 

To  the  Queen vi  r 

Claribel 1 

Ulian 1 

Isabel 1 

Mariana '2 

To 2 

Madaline 3 

Song — The  Owl 3 

Second  Song 3 

BecoP.ection     of    the     Arabian 

Nights 4 

OdetoMemory 6 

Song 6 

Adeline 6 

A  Character 7 

The  Poet. 7 

The  Poet's  Mind 8 

The  Sea-fairies 8 

The  Deserted  House 9 

The  Dying  Swan 9 

A  Dirge 9 

Love  and  Death 10 

The  Ballad  of  Oriana 10 

Circumstance 11 

The  Merman 11 

The  Mermaid 11 

Sonnet  to  J.  M.  K 12 

The  Lady  of  Shalott 12 

Mariana  in  the  South 14 

Ele&nore 15 

The  Miller's  Daughter 16 

Fatima 18 

CEuone 18 

IheSisters 22 

To 22 

The  Palace  of  Art 22 

Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere 26 

XheMay  Queen 26 

New-year's  Eve 27 

Conclusion 28 

The  Lotos-Eaters 29 

Choric  Song 29 

A  Dream  of  Fair  Women 31 

Margaret Zi 

TheBlackbird 35 

The  Death  of  the  Old  Year 35 

ToJ.S 3G 


Song :  **  You  ask  me,  why  tho*  ill 

at  ease," 36 

**     "  Of  old  sat  freedom  on  the 

heights," 37 

**     •*  Love  thou  thy  land,  with 

love  far-brought " 37 

The  Goose 38 

TlieEpic 38 

Morte  d'Arthur 39 

The  Gardener's  Daughter ;  or  the 

Pictures 43 

Dora 47 

Audley  Court 49 

AVaikingtotheMail 60 

Edwin  Morris ;  or  the  Lake 52 

St.  Simeon  Stylites 64 

The  Talking  Oak 66 

Ix)ve  and  Duty 69 

The  Golden  Year 60 

Ulysses 61 

Locksley  Hall, 62 

Godlva 66 

The  Two  Voices 67 

The  Daydream  :— 

Prologue 71 

The  Sleeping  Palace 71 

The  Sleaping  Beauty 72 

The  AiTi  val 72 

The  Revival 72 

The  Departure 72 

Moral 73 

L'Envol 73 

Epilogue 73 

Amphion 74 

St.  Agnes  Eve 74 

Sir  Galaliad 75 

Edward  Gray 73 

Will  Waterproof's  Lyrical  Moiio> 

logue 76 

To ,  after  reading  a  Life  and 

Letters 78 

To  E.  L.,  on  his  travels  in  Greece  78 

Lady  Clare 78 

The  Lord  of  Burleigh 79 

Sir  Lancelot  and  Queen  Guine-^ 

vere 80 

AFarewell ^ 


^ 


CMft 


iDtemi^Dnal  Eibiultlofl... 


TlireoS 


M»ud 

The  Brook  :  mi  Idjl 

TUB  iMtWa 

Ode  (in  Iha  Uefttll  i)l 

Welllngwn 

Tl>«  Tutu; 


le  Duke  ol 


LhsUaT.  F.  U-MauiicB I 

"1 1 

ChHrpi  □[  the  Uglil  Brlsode  1 

(lamorlam 1 

lliePiinceHi  B  Medley I 

"       ■    ■   dPii  1 

Flalcl 1 


in  Mamorlam. 

—  e  PiincH 

oehArdi 

Sea  Dreai 

The  OratiamoiDfli 

TJnrthern  Firmer, 

ThBVi 


d  itfla. 

...  theVmllar  oC  CBUtareti. .. 

mie  Flower 

Benuifsac 

ThflSsilor  Boy 


ig:  "    Lwlj,   let   iba   railing         ■ 


<y  broaebt  Mm 

Song  :   "  More  eastward,  kappf 

Song:  "  Brenk,  lireDf,  break,"  ..  S 

Tlie  Foat'«  Soiig ! 

OiiaMoumflr S 

Nonlwrn  Farmer,  Kew  Btjle 1 


lUBTBrr  Sqa, 
avis  nf  the  1 


Getaliit  itiid  EtiM 

Mac  [In  Biid  Vivien 

I^ncelDt  and  Rlalno , . , 

TheHoly  nmll    

FellraeaiidEtUirre  ... 
The  LuCToumainent. 


BpocimBii   i>f  a 

tha  Iliad  In 

ISOS— 1S6S 


Bong:   -My  llto   is  fi 


r4--  -—-___ 


/- 


e 


r2^M:i^y'u^^ 


).£o^. 


TO    THE    QUEEN. 


Rbvebed,  beloved  —  O  you  tliat  hold 

A  nobler  office  upon  earth 

Than  arms,  or  power  of  brain,  or  birth 
Could  give  the  warrior  kings  of  old, 

Tictoria,  —  since  your  Royal  grace 
To  one  of  less  desert  allows 
This  laurel  greener  from  the  brows 

Of  him  that  utter*d  nothing  base ; 

And  should  your  greatness,  and  the  care 
That  yokes  with  empire,  yield  you  timo 
To  make  demand  of  modem  rhyme 

If  aught  of  ancient  worth  be  there  ; 

Then  —  while  a  sweeter  music  wakes. 
And  thro*  wild  March  the  throstle  calls* 
Where  all  about  your  palace-walls 

The  sun-lit  almond-blossom  shakes  — 

Take,  Madam,  this  poor  book  of  song ; 
For  tho*  the  faults  were  thick  as  dust 
In  vacant  chambers,  I  could  trust 

Toot  kindness.    May  you  mle  ub  long, 


^ 


k 


TO  THE  QUEEy. 
nd  le>re  u>  rul*n  o[  youi-  lAooA 
Aa  nobis  111!  Uie  latest  any  I 
Na.j  cMldran  at  our  clillilreu  say, 
iglit  lier  people  InsLbig  gooil 


•Sbo 


In  har  iia  MoUiar.  Wife  B 


■vnm  knew  the  aeiiaoiii  wUen  to 
Oecailoii  vy  tlie  li*iid,  &n<l  mukc 
The  iMuniU  ol  freedom  wider  yet 


\VUcli  kept  licr  tbroiie  uuthakcn  itlll, 
BroDd-bascd  upon  lice  people'i  will; 
And  compau'd  b;  tlie  Invloluto  saa.' 


POEMS. 


CLARIBEL. 

A  VEL0D7. 
I. 

Whebe  Claribel  low-lieth 
The  breezes  pause  and  die. 
Letting  the  rosehleayes  fall ; 
Bat  the  solemn  oak-tree  sigheth, 
Thlck-leayed,  ambrosial, 
"With  an  ancient  melody 
Of  an  inward  agonv, 
Where  Claribel  low-Uetlu 

ir. 
At  eye  the  beetle  boometh 

Athwart  the  thicket  lono : 
At  noon  the  wild  bee  hummeth 

About  the  moss'd  headstone : 
At  midnight  the  moon  cometh. 

And  iooketh  down  alone, 
ner  song  the  lintwhite  swelleth, 
Use  clear-yoiced  mavis  dwelleth, 

The  callow  throstle  lispeth, 
The  slumbrous  wave  outwelleth, 

The  babbling  runnel  crispeth, 
The  hollow  grot  replieth 
"Wliere  Claribel  low-lieth. 


rr. 

Praying  All  I  can, 
If  prayers  will  not  hush  tho«, 

Airy  Lilian. 
Like  a  rose-leaf  I  will  crush  thoe. 

Fairy  Lilian. 


LILIAN. 

I. 

AiiiT,  fairy  Lilian, 

Flittinff,  fairy  Lilian, 
When  I  ask  her  if  she  love  me, 
Claps  her  tiny  hands  above  me. 

Laughing  all  she  can  ; 
8he*ll  not  tell  me  if  she  love  me, 

Cruel  little  Lilian. 

IT. 

When  my  passion  seeks 

Pleasance  in  love-sinhf^. 
She,  looking  thro*  and  thro*  me 
Thoroughly  to  undo  me. 

Smiling,  never  speaks : 
So  innocent-arch,  so  cunning-simple, 
Prom  beneath  her  gatlier'd  wlmplo 
Glancing  with  black-beaded  eyes, 
Till  tlie  lightning  laughters  dimple 

The  baby-roses  in  lier  cheeks ; 

Then  away  she  Hies. 

III. 

Prythee  weep,  May  Lilian ! 
GayetY  wiuiout  eclipse 

Wearietn  me.  May  Lilian  : 
Thro'  my  very  heart  it  thrilletli 

When  from  crimson-threaded  lips 
SfWer-treble  laughter  trilleth : 

PxyflMe  weepi  May  lAliaw. 


ISABEL. 

I. 

Etes  not  down-dropt  nor  over  bright^ 
but  fed 
With    the    clear-pointed  flame  oi 

chastity. 
Clear,     witnout      heat,      undying, 
tended  by 
Pure    vestal     thoughts     in     the 
translucent  fane 
Of  her  still  spirit;    locks  not  wide- 
dispread, 
]VIadonna-wise  on  either  side  her 

bead: 
Sweet  lips  whereon    perpetually 
did  reign 
The  summer  calm  of  golden  charity. 
Were  fixed  shadows  of  tiiy  fixed  mood, 
lievered   Isabel,  the  crown  and 
head. 
The  stately  flower  of  female  fortitude. 
Of  perfect  wifehood  and  pure  low- 
lihead. 

ir. 

The  intuitive  decision  of  a  bright 
And  thorough-edged  intellect  to  part 
Error  from  crime ;  a  prudence  to 

withhold ; 
The  laws  of  marriage  charactered 
in  gold 
Upon  the  blanched  tablets  of  her 
heart ; 
A  love  still  burning  upward,  givin* 
light 
To  read  those  laws ;  an  accent  very 

low 
In  blandishmeAt,  but  a  most  silver 
flow 

Of  subtle-paced  counsel  in  dis- 
tress, 
lUght  to  the  heart  and  brain,  tho* 
undescried. 
Winning    its  way  with  extreme 
gentleness 
Thro*  all  the  outworks  of  suspicious 

pride; 
A  courage  to  endure  and  to  obey : 
A  hate  of  gOBBlp  paxloaiQ^,  «aA  q1 
sway, 


/ 


Crowii'd  latLbel,  UiKi-  ftll  her  pUdd 
Tbe  queen  of  toarriaE«,  n  moat  per- 


The  vexed  odOles  ot  lis  wavward 

brother : 
A  leaning  »nd  npboarinB  parmUo, 
CloEhing  the  stum,  vbTcli  else  luul 


Of  rich  fmlt-bnnclioa  leaning  o; 
Sbailov  fortli  thoe:  — tha  woili 


MARLiNA. 

WrrahlaolteBt  mow  the  flower-ploUi 

Were  tbiek It  crusted,  one  aiidnlt : 
The  luited  nuilii  fell  from  the  iLnots 

That  held  the  pear  to  the  Eal>lo-nnI1. 
The    brokflD  ohedfl    loolc'a  and    aud 
Etiance ; 

milfUd  wu  the  cllnklns  latch  ; 

'We^ed  aiirl  worn  the  uiciont  Ihatcli 
Coon  the  loualy  mnaled  aroneo. 

"'• '■■  »dd,  "  My  life  6  drellry. 


Bhfl  only  edd,  "  My  li. 

Ho  Cometh  not,"^ah( 
Sheaaid,  "I  em  owoary,  nwcnrj 

1  would  that  I  were  dead  I " 


When  thicken  daik  did  ti 


jtd   einnced  athi 
flats. 
She   only  said, 
draaiy, 
Ho  Cometh  th 


tJponll: 

Watli 


"Tbs    night    is 
,"  ebe  said : 
'"■""■J"  ???,"'■' 
;he  nlEht. 
i  the  Dlght-Iowl 

ihour  ore  llgJit : 


Till  cold  winds  woke  lbs  grvj-ejei 

About  the  lonely  moated  cranco. 

She  only  snld,  '■  The  clay  la  dreair, 

ShOBB 


I  would  th 


vereifeuil" 


A    Bloli^a    with    biacKened    water 

knU  o'er  it  many,  round  and  small, 
The  cluater-d  marlnb-moeaea  crept. 
Sard  by  a  poplsi  eb[K>k  Blway, 
All  allTer-'green  with  guatleil  bafk 
For  leagues  no  other  tree  did  marl 
ITiolevelwaBls,  the  roundlna  gray. 
Eb«  only  aald.  "My  life  la  dinarj 
lieeometbKoVsheaaldi 


Andai 


liTlllwUidan'oreup  and  awaj, 
.to  cuTt^iin,  10  aiEdfn, 
the  glisty  sbodow  awny. 

d  wlndB  bouud  within  their 


The  shai; 


fell 


,    „.suid; 

She  utld,  "  I  am  aweary,  aweoir, 

All  day  wltUln  the  dreamy  houao, 
The  blue  dy  sung  la  tiu 
Behind    the    mouldeiing    ttidneci 


the 


Orfroi 


,  the  CI 


d  Inces  gllmniei'd  thro'  the  doors, 
uiii  footstona  trod  the  upper  iloors. 
Id  roleea  eafled  hot  from  without. 

Bhs  only  said,  "My  Ufoiadreaiy, 
He  Cometh  not,"  she  said  ; 

Bho  BAid,  *'  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 

he  Bparrow^H  chirrup  ou  the  roof, 
The   alow   clock   Ucklng,    and   lbs 


Lt  moat  she  loathed 


CLGAn-nEAIlI 

Edged  w'ith 


ihe,  "1  am  very  Utearr, 
Kcoma.-ahHBaidi 
I  am  aweary,  aireary. 


Lid,  whole  joyfoJ 
>   Inugbter,  cull 


SONG.-^TUE  OWL. 


8 


Tlie  knots  that  tangle  human  creeds. 
The  wounding  cords  that  bind  and 
strain 

The  heart  until  it  bleeds, 
Eay-f ringed  eyelids  of  the  mom 

Boof  not  a  glance  so  keen  as  thine : 

If  aught  of  prophecy  be  mine, 
Thou  -mlt  not  live  in  vain. 

II. 
Low-cowering  shall  the  Sophist  sit ; 
Falsehood   shall  bare  her  plaited 

brow : 
Fair-fronted  Truth  shall  droop  not 
now 
With  shrilling  shafts  of  subtle  wit. 
Kor    martyr-flames,    nor    trenchant 
swords 
Can  do  away  that  ancient  lie ; 
A  gentler  death  shall  Falsehoo<l  die. 
Shot  thro'  and  thro'  with  cunning 
words. 

III. 
Weak  Truth  a-leanine  on  her  crutch. 
Wan,  wasted  Truth  in  her  utmost 

need, 
Thy  kingly  intellect  shall  feed, 
Until  she  be  an  athlete  bold, 
And  weary  with  a  finger's  touch 
Those  writhed  limbs  of  lightning 
speed ; 
Like  that  strange  angel  which  of 
old, 
Until  the  breaking  of  the  light, 
Wrestled  with  wandering  Israel, 
Past  Yabbok    brook    the    livelong 
night. 
And  heaven's  mazed  signs  stood  still 
In  the  dim  tract  of  Penuel. 


MADELINE 

I. 
TH017    art    not    steep'd    in    golden 
languors. 
No  tranced  summer  calm  is  thine, 

Ever  varying  Madeline. 
Thro'  light  and  shadow  thou  dost 

range. 
Sudden  glances,  sweet  and  strange, 
Delicious  spites  and  darling  angers, 
And  airy  forms  of  flitting  change. 

II. 
Smiling,  frowning,  evermore. 
Thou  art  perfect  In  love-lore. 
Revealings  deep  and  clear  are  thine 
Of  wealthy  smiles :  but  who  may  know 
Whether  smile  or  frown  be  fleeter? 
Whether  smile  or  frown  be  sweeter. 

Who  may  know  ? 
Frowns  perfect-sweet  along  the  brow 
light-ffloomins  over  eyes  divine, 
like  little    clouds   sun-fringed,  are 
thine. 
Ever  varying  Madeline. 
Thy  smile  and  frown  are  not  aloof 
From  one  another. 
Each  to  each  is  dearest  brother ; 
Hues  of  the  silken  sheeny  woof 
Momently,  shot  Into  each  other. 


All  the  mystery  Is  thine ; 
Smiling,  frowning,  evermore, 
Thou  art  perfect  m  love-lore, 

Ever  varying  Madeline. 

III. 
A  subtle,  sudden-flame, 
By  veering  passion  f  ann'd. 

About  thee  breaks  and  dances ; 
When  I  would  kiss  thy  hand, 
The  flush  of  anger'd  shame 

O'erflows  thy  calmer  glances. 
And  o'er  black  brows  drops  down 
A  sudden-curved  frown : 
But  when  I  turn  away. 
Thou,  willing  me  to  stay, 
Wooest  not.  nor  vainly  wranglest ; 

But,  looking  flxedly  the  while. 
All  my  bounding  heart  entanglesfc 
In  a  golden-netted  smile ; 
Then  in  madness  and  in  bliss. 
If  my  lips  should  dare  to  kiss 
Thy  taper  fingers  amorously. 
Again  thou  blushcst  angerly ; 
And  o'er  black  brows  drops  down 
A  sudden-curved  frown. 


SONG.— THE  OWL. 

I. 
When  cats  run  home  and  light  Is  coki«^ 

And  dew  is  cold  upon  the  ground, 

And  the  far-off  stream  is  dumb, 

And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round ; 

And  the  whirring  Bail  goes  round ; 

Alone  and  warming  his  five  wits, 

The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 

II. 
When  merry  milkmaids  click  the  latch. 
And  rarely    smells  the   new-mown 
hay, 
And  the  cock  hath  sung  beneath  the 
thatch 
Twice  or  thrice  his  roundelay, 
Twice  or  thrice  his  loun  delay  ; 
Alone  and  warming  his  live  wita. 
The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 


SECOND   SONG. 

TO  THE  SAME. 
I. 

Thy  tuwhits  are  lull'd,  I  wot. 
Thy  tuwhoos  of  yesternight, 
Which  upon  the  dark  afloat. 

So  took  echo  with  delight. 

So  took  echo  with  delight. 
That  her  voice  untunef  ul  grown. 
Wears  all  day  a  fainter  tone. 

II. 

I  would  mock  thy  chant  anew ; 

But  I  cannot  mimic  it ; 
Not  a  whit  of  thy  tuwhoo. 
Thee  to  woo  to  thy  tuwhit. 
Thee  to  woo  to  thy  tuwhit. 
With  a  lengthen'd  loud  halloo, 
Tuwhoo,     tuwhit,     ta^hit.,    \3Qp 
"Whoo-o^. 


THE  AIUBIAX  XIGHTS. 


brscie  ol  n  Jojlol  dam 


blav  free 
In  Uia  alUien  asil  ot  InCiuiFy, 
Tbs  lids  o(  lime  flow'd  bock  trith  m 

TbB forwunl-nowlng  tide o(  time; 
And  muiya  sheenTRumtner^aom, 
Aiinuti  iha  Tlntiii  I  wM  bonio, 
Grilles  ot  fretted  gt 


Br  Bogdnt'B  1 


icfa-WBlled  i^uilens  green  ani 


leold, 


Ini> 


Antgbt  my  sballop,  rtistllni;  Ihio' 
Thelow  and  bloomed  foliaga,  dtovo 
Tlie  instant,   Elisteulug  daepB,  and 

The  dlron-iihBdowi  In  Iho  blue : 
Bt  garden  |)orcb«  on  (Ua  brimj 


costly  Soon  flnng  open  wLda, 

,  elitteHna  thni'  lampltght  dim, 

bmldcr'iraofKi  on  each  Bide  : 


Of  gooil  Harouu  AlroAcMd- 
Ofton,  irbera  cleoi^teiiiiii'd   platans 
"Tt,  did  1 


TboboAt-bcAd  down  a  brood  ca 

From  IhB  mnlti  r 

Tbeiloplnaot  tl 
Was  tlamegic-warlc,  a 
Ot  btaided  blooms 

Adowii  to  nbere  tbe  -mtter  elDpt 

A  goodly  place,  a  Boodly  ilmo. 

For  it  wna  in  the  guidon  pcJmr 

01  good  Uaroiiu  AlraicUid. 


My  sluillap  ibi-o*  tbo  suc-sttowu  calm. 
Until  nnoUiBr  nlEbt  in  nigbc 
I  entar*d,  fiom  tuB  elearecligbt. 
Imbower'd  vsuIlBoI  plliar'd  palm. 
Imprisoning  ewaeti,  wlilcli,  us   they 

clomb 
HesTcnwanl,  wore  Etay'd  benoath  tbo 

Ot  boUon- bongbs. — A  goodlj-limfl, 
rot  It  was  ill  lie  anidaii  iTline 
Of  good  Uacouu  Alraecbid. 

Still  onward;  and  tbe  clnar  canal 

Is  roundod  to  as  olpar  a  Inlio. 

Prom  the  cteen  rivMro  miiiy  a  fall 

Of  diamond  rlllets  mnsica^ 

Tbro'  Utila  cryilfll 


Down  (roi 


iKou 


ilia  iparkllnx  DlnU b'enealli  the  pruw. 
A  goodly  plaee,  a  goodly  tlma» 

Ot  gwd  Uaraun  Alraacbid. 


■Wnnder'd  engraln'd.   On  either  dito 
All  round  about  tbe  fragrant  marge 

Bowen  large. 


■With  odor  in  OiegolJan. 

Of  good  Haroun  Alrnschid. 

"ere  tbe  lemon  giOTB 

„ ot  middle  nlgbt 

Died  round  tlie  bulbul  as  he  taag ; 
Xo^  he:  but  comeUilnB  which  po» 


The  darknen  of  the  world,  dellEht, 
Life,  anguiBh.  death,  immorial  E>re, 
CaaaliiB  not,  mingled,  nnreprcsa'd. 
Apart  f  mm  place,  withholding  time, 


iU  Alfasehiii. 


Blacli  tbe  garden  _ 
Slnmbcr'd  :   tha  a 


And,  Honing  rapidly  lietween 
Tbuir  IntetHpacait  connterehanged 
Tbe  level  Infie  <*Uli  dlamond-flols 
Ot  dai'lt  and  bright.    A  lovely  lime, 
Focltwasin  tbe  golden  prime 
Of  good  Haroun  Alraachid. 
Dark-bine  ibe  deep  apUere  overhead. 
Distinct  with  vivid  slara  inlaid. 
Grew  darker  from  that  under-dam* : 
So,  leaping  llghUy  from  Ihoboat, 
With  silver  oucboc  left  adoat, 
In  marvel  nbonce  that  glory  came 
Upon  tae,  as  in  sleep  I  EOuk 
In  cool  soft  turf  Qtaon  tbe  bank, 
i:Dtiiineedwlth  ihatptoee  anil  time. 
So  wortliT  of  the  golden  prime 
Of  good  Haroun  Aln— ■■■ ' 
Thoncn  tbro"  the  gnnlen 


'.L^lit 


drawT 


.hadow-rbequcr'd  Ian 
:y'»BtlllY  sound, 
myrrb-tbickole    blowbig 


>  city 


Graven  with  ei 


id  obelliba 
:  the  tin 


Of  gooV  Harouu  Alnucidd. 
With  dazed  vision  nnnwHrES 

Em^eed,  I  camo  UBOiA'bo'^'at 

pavilTonottUeCalipliat. 

Bight  Id  Iho  carveii  cedam  doon, 

Flung  Inward  over  epaugJed  floors, 

]3roBdJ>as4d  fiialits  of  marble  itain 

llnnupnltb  golden  baliutrnde, 


ODE  TO  MEMORY. 


5 


The  fourscore  windows  all  alight 
As  with  the.  quintessence  of  flame, 
A  million  tapers  flaring  bright 
From  twisted  silvers  look'ato  shame 
The  hollow-vaulted  dark,  and  stream'd 
Upon  the  mooned  domes  aloof 
In  inmost  Bagdat,  till  there  seem'd 
Hundreds  of  crescents  on  the  roof 

Of  night  new-risen,  that  marrelloufl 
time 

To  celebrate  the  golden  prime 
Of  good  Harouu  Alrascliid. 

Then  stole  I  up.  and  trancedly 
Gazed  on  the  Persian  eirl  alone, 
Serene  with  argent-lidaed  eyes 
Amorous,  and  lashes  like  to  rays 
Of  darkness,  and  a  brow  of  pearl 
Tressed  with  redolent  ebony, 
lu  many  a  dark  delicious  curl, 
flowing  beneath  her  rose-hued  zone ; 
The  sweetest  lady  of  the  time, 
"Well  worthy  of  the  golden  prime 
Of  good  Haroun  Alraschid. 

Six  columns,  three  on  either  side. 
Pure  silver,  underpropt  a  rich 
Throne  of  the  massive  ore,  from  which 
Down-droop*d,  in  many  a  floating  fold, 
Enearlanded  ai}d  diaper'd 
y^uh.  inwrought  flowers,  a  cloth  of 

gold. 
Thereon,  his  deep  eye  laughter^tirr'd 
With  merriment  of  Kingly  pride. 
Sole  star  of  all  that  place  and  time, 
I  saw  him— in  his  golden  prime, 
Ths  Good  Haboun  Alraschid  ! 


ODE  TO  MEMORY. 

I. 

THOtr  who  stealest  fire, 
From  the  fountains  of  the  past, 
To  glorify  the  present :  O,  haste. 

Visit  my  low  desire  I 
Strengthen  me,  enlighten  me ! 
I  faint  in  this  obscurity. 
Thou  dewy  dawn  of  memory. 

n. 

Come  not  as  thou  camestof  late. 
Flinging  the  gloom  of  yesternight 
On  tne  white  day :  but  robed  In  soft- 
en*d  light 

Of  orient  state. 
Whilome  thou  camest  with  the  morn- 
ing mist. 
Even  as  a  maid,  whose  stately  brow 
The  de  w-im  pearled  winds  of  dawn  have 
kiss'd, 

IVhen  she,  as  thou, 
Stays  on  her  floating  locks  the  lovely 

freight 
Of  overflowing  blooms,  and  earliest 

shoots 
Of  orient  green,  giving  safe  pledge  of 

fruits. 
Which  in  wlntertide  shall  star 
TIm  black  earth  with  hxOhanco  ran. 


m. 


/ 


Whilome  thou  earnest  with  the  morn- 
ing mist. 
And  with  the  evening  cloud. 

Showering  thy  gleaned  wealth  into  my 
ox)en  breast 

(Those  peerless  flowers  which  in  the 
rudest  wind 

Never  grow  sere, 

When  rooted  in  the  gaxden  of  the 
mind. 
Because  they  are  the  earliest  of  the 
year). 
Nor  was  the  night  thy  shroud. 

In  sweet  dreams  softer  than  unbroken 
rest 

Thou  leddest  by  the  hand  thine  infant 
Hope. 

The  odd}ing  of  her  garments  caught 
from  uiee 

The  light  of  thy  great  presence ;  and 
the  cooe 
Of  the  hali-attain*d  futurity, 
Tho*  deep  not  fathomless, 

Was  cloven  with   the   million  stars 
which  tremble 

O'er  the  deep  mind  of  dauntless  in- 
fancy. 

Small  thought  was  there  of  life's  dis- 
tress ; 

For  sure  she  deem'd  no  mist  of  earth 
could  dull 

Those  spirit-thrilling  eyes  so  keen  and 
beautiful : 

Sure    she   was    nigher  to    heaven's 
spheres, 

Listening  the  lordly  music  flowing 
from 

The  illimitable  years. 

0  strengthen  me,  enlighten  me  I 

1  faint  in  this  obscurity, 
Thou  dewy  dawn  of  memory. 

IV. 

Come  forth,  I  charge  thee,  arise. 
Thou  of  the  many  tongues,  the  myriad 

eyes  I 
Thou  comest  not  with  shows  of  flaunt- 
ing vines 
Unto  mine  inner  eye, 
Divinest  Memory ! 
Thou  wert  not  nursed  by  the  water* 
fall 
Which  ever  sounds  and  shines 

A  pillar  of  white  light  upon  the  wall 
Of  purple  cliffs,  aloof  descried : 
Come  from  the  woods  that  belt  the 

gray  hillside. 
The  seven  elms,  the  poplars  four 
That  stand  beside  my  father's  door, 
And  chiefly  from  the  brook  that  loves 
To  purl  o'er  matted  cress  and  ribbed 

sand. 
Or  dimple  in  the  dark  of  rushy  coves. 
Drawing  into  his  narrow  eartnen  urn. 

In  every  elbow  and  turn, 
The  fllter'd  tribute  of  the  rough  wood* 
land. 
0!  hither  lead  th7tQ^\ 


«  ADELINE. 

PoiiT  nmnd  mine  can   Uu   llTelons 

Of  ttaetlilok-aeeciid  Bheep  from  wut. 
tied  foldi, 
TTpon  the  rldgcfl  woltls, 
l^en  tlio  fliBt  maiiTX40Dg  liatJi  ivat- 
Orer  Uis  dark  dewv  eartli  forlorn, 
rorUi  cuBhoi  from  beneath  &  low-hnnB 

Largo  dowries  dolh  Iho  mptnrcd  eja 
Id  the  yoong  epliit  preBent 
WbeiiflrstShelBwed; 

And  like  a  bride  of  old 
In  Irinmph  led. 
With  ninslc  and  sweat  Bhowen 
Of  festal  flowen, 
tTnto  the  dwelling  b1i< 


great  artist  Mem. 


>u  dearl J  love  tby  Qtb 


Needim 

And  foiemoBt  In  thj-  various  nul 
Flaee   It,  wbere  iwceteKt  su 

falls 
Upon  tbe  etorled  wilUb  ; 
Fortbediscovery 
And  newneia  of  tbiua  arD  bo  p 

Tlu,t  all  wbjch  Uiou  liaet  dia 

Or  lioldeat  alma,  but  ll^bfly  w 


On  tbe  prinio  labor    of    tbine  early 

No  matter  what  llie  sketch  mlgbt  be  ; 
Wbettaer  the  hiah  Held  ou  the  bnah- 

leSB  Pike, 
Or  eren  a  eand-bnllt  ridge 
Of  heaped  hills  that  muund  tbe  Bea, 
Overblown  with  niurrourB  bnrBli, 
Or  even  a  lowly  eotiage  whence  we  aea 


With  plalud  alleys  of  the  tmllInD  rOBO, 
Loug  alleys  folllug  down  to  iwllicht 

Or  opening  upon  level  plots 
Of  erowned  llliea.  stancnng  near 
Furple-epiked  lavender  ; 
Whhllor  In  after  life  Tolirod 
From  brawling  BtDrmi, 
VrUDi  weary  wind, 
■WllhyoutbinKBiioy 
We  may  hold  mnvan 
Of  die  mMuy-sliltd  mi 


L7K 


In  tie  walks  \ 
Earthward  he 


>awcth  Iho  heavy 
brood  BanSow 


Ueari^yhaiV  --  -—    - 

Overlta  grave  i'  the  earth  so  chUly: 

Hoovily  hanga  Ito  bollyhoek, 
Heavily  hangs  the  tiger-lily. 


and  btiBb'd,  and  close. 


>r  before  death  : 


Heavily  hangs  il; 
Overlls  grave  i 

" •'■■>— igatl 

langa 

ADELINE. 

Mybteby  of  myBlcrlBB, 


Bui  beyi 

With  thy  flooUiiE  i 
Thy  roee-lipsand  full  Dlueoyea 


ijpresilon  fait 
"   -" h^Ti 


Taketht , 

Wbcretore  tbose  dim  looki  of  tldne. 
Shadowy,  dreaming  AdelluG  V 

Whence  that  aery  bloom  of  Ihina, 

Like  a  Uly  whli^h  the  snn 
Looks  tUro'  In  hlB  kbU  deullne. 

And  n  rose-bosh  loans  upon, 
ThoB  that  faintly  BndlesC  sQll, 


L  maiden  post  ai 
leplaffldlips  bo 


THE  POET. 


in. 


What  hope  or  fear  or  joy  is  thine  ? 

Who  talketh  with  thee,  Adeline  ? 

For  sure  thou  art  not  all  alone : 

Do  beating  hearts  of  salient  springs 
Keep  measure  with  thine  own  ? 
Uast  thou  heard  the  butterflies 
What  they  say  betwixt  their  wings  ? 
Or  in  stillest  eyenines 
"With  what  voice  the  violet  wooes 
To  his  heart  the  silver  dews  ? 
Or  when  little  airs  arise, 
How  the  merry  bluebell  rinss 
To  the  mosses  underneath? 
Hast  thou  look'd  upon  the  breath 
Of  the  lilies  at  sunrise  ? 
Wherefore  that  faint  smile  of  thine, 
Shadowy,  dreaming  Adeline  ? 

IV. 

Some  honey-converse  feeds  thy  mind, 
Some  spirit  of  a  crimson  rose 
In  love  with  thee  forgets  to  close 
His  curtains,  wasting  odorous  sigha 
All  night  long  on  darkness  blind. 
What  aileth  ttiee  ?  whom  waitest  thou 
With  thy  soften'd,  shadow^d  brow, 
And  those  dew-lit  eyes  of  thine, 
Thou  faint  smiler,  Adeline  ? 

♦  V. 

Lovest  thou  the  doleful  wind 

When  thou  gazest  at  the  skies  ? 
Both  tlie  low-tonffued  Orient 
Wander  from  the  side  of  the  mom, 
Dripping  with  Sabaean  spice 
On  thy  pillow,  lowljr  bent 

With  melodious  airs  lovelorn, 
Breathing  Light  against  thy  face. 
While  his  locks  a-drooping  twined 
Round  thy  neck  in  subtle  ring 
Hake  a  carcanet  of  rays, 

And  ye  talk  togetner  still, 
In  the  language  wherewith  Spring 
Letters  cowsUps  on  the  hill? 
Hence  that  look  and  smile  of  thine. 
Spiritual  Adeline . 


A  CHARACTER. 

With  a  half-glance  upon  the  sky 
At  night  he  said,  **  The  wanderings 
Of  thu  most  intricate  Universe 
Teach  me  the  nothingness  of  things.*' 
Tet  could  not  all  creation  pierce 
Beyond  the  bottom  of  his  eye. 

He  spake  of  beauty  :  that  the  dull 
Saw  no  divinity  in  grass, 
life  in  dead  stones,  or  spirit  in  air  ; 
Then  looking  as  'twere  in  a  glass. 
Hesmooth*dhischin  and  sleeked  his 

hair, 
And  said  the  earth  was  beautiful. 

He  spake  of  virtue :  not  the  gods 
More  purely,  when  they  wish  to  charm 
Pallas  and  Juno  sitting  by : 
And  with  a  sweeping  of  the  arm, 
And  a  lack-lustre  dead-blue  eye, 
jDerolTed  his  rounded  periods. 


Most  delicately  hour  by  hour 
He  canvass'd  human  mysteries^ 
And  trod  on  silk,  as  if  the  windjs 
Blew  his  own  praises  in  his  eyes. 
And  stood  aloof  from  other  mino* 
In  impotence  of  fancied  power. 

With  lips  depress*d  as  he  were  meek, 
Himseli  unto  himself  he  sold  : 
Upon  himself  himself  did  feed : 
Quiet,  dispassionate,  and  cold. 
And  other  than  his  form  of  creed. 
With    chiselled    features    clear   and 
sleek. 


THE  POET. 

The  poet  in  a  golden  clime  was  bom. 
With  golden  stars  above  ; 

Dower' d  with  the  hate  of  hate,  the 
scorn  of  scorn. 
The  love  of  love. 

He  saw  thro'  life  and  death;  thro' 
good  and  ill. 

Ho  saw  thro'  his  own  soul. 
The  marvel  of  the  everlasting  will, 

An  open  scroll. 

Before  him  lay :  with  echoing  feet  he 
threaded 
The  secretest  walks  of  fame : 
The  viewless  arrows  of  his  thoughts 
were  headed 
And  wing'd  with  flame, 
Like  Indian  reeds  blown  from  his  sil- 
ver tongue. 
And  of  so  fierce  a  flight, 
From  Caipe  unto  Caucasus  thev  sung. 
FUmig  with  light 

And  vagrant  melodies  the  winds  which 
bore 
Them  earthward  till  they  lit ; 
Then,  like  the  arrow-seeds  of  the  field 

The  fruitful  wit 

Cleaving,  took  root,   and    sprin^ng 
forth  anew 
Where'er  they  fell,  behold. 
Like  to  the  mother  plant  in  semblancOi 
grew 
A  flower  all  gold. 

And  bravely  fumish'd  all  abroad  to 

fling 

The  winged  shafts  of  truth, 
To  throng  with  stately   blooms   the 
breathing  spring 

Of  Hope  and  Youth. 

So  many  minds  did  gird   their  orbs 
with  beams, 
Tho*  one  did  fling  the  fire. 
Heaven  flow'd  upon  the  soul  in  many 
dreams 
Of  high  desire. 

Thus  truth  was  multiplied  on  truth,  the 
world 
Like  one  great  garden  show'd. 
And  thro'  the  wreaths  of  ^o&ti\i\^  ^AX^ 
upcurl'd, 
Rare  buhiIbq  fLoyr^d. 


I 


When  liiee  aud  Cocma  befoi«  Lis  bum- 

Sleltedllka  inow. 
Thera  itbb  no  blood  npon  ber  oiiideii 

Simn'd  by 


B'?S^. 


t  Ibe  circleH  a 


And  when  abe  cpake, 
Her-n-oidB  did  GatboiUiunderiu  Uiej 

And  as  (be  Uglitoiug  to  tbe  limi- 
Wbldb  tollQWB  tt,  riving  tha  Bpliit  of 

MEikingcartb  wonder, 
Sowastheirmeaniug  toLcrwords.  Xo 

0(  wratb  her  rlgbt  arm  wMrl'd, 
Bat  oneiioor poet's Ecrull.Budnltb  liia 

THE  POET'S  MIND. 


Tex  not  tbou  the  poofs  mind 

Willi  thy  Bballow  wit : 
Vex  not  tbou  tbe  pOEt'a  mind  ; 

For  ibou  cnnsC  not  fnUiom  it. 
Clear  and  brigbt  it  should  l)o  ayer, 
Flowing  niia  u.  orystal  liver  ; 
Bright  SB  lieht,  and  clear  as  vlud. 

Dflri-braw'd  ropblBt.  come  not  anear 

All  the  place  la  lioly  ground  ; 
Hollow  gmUo  and  frozen  sneer 

Holywuter  willlDOur 
Inlo  every  apley  floiver 
Of  Ibe  laurel-shrubs  tlULt  hedge  It 

The  flowers  would  faint  at  jour  crua 

In  your  eye  there  Is  death, 
There  le  frost  In  yourbroath 
Vhioh  would  bllEbC  the  pbints. 
IVbere  jou  stand  yon  cannot  be 
From  the  Erovaa  nitblu 
TLB  wild-bird's  dtn. 
Tn  the  lieart  ol  the  gntden  the  me. 

bird  ohanis, 
It  would  fall  to  tlio  ground  if  you  ca. 

In  tha  middlfl  leaps  a  f  ouiitidn 

Llka  ebeet  lightning, 

ETcrbiighteninc 
'With  a  Ion  salodEius  thundw ; 


It  BDringB  01 


It  w 


■erwonld  hear  It:  yoni 

0  dull  i 
where  you  Bie  :  JOU  ara  foul 

1  stirlnk  U>  the  earth 


THE  8EA-FAIEIES. 
Slow  aail'd  the  weary  mtirineis  aud 
Uetnlic  tbe  green  brink  and  tbe  fuD' 
Sweet  fa<^ea,  rounded  arms,  and  bosoms 
TolittlebDrpsof  gold;  and  while  they 
ipprine  to  each  other  hnlfln  fs 


I 


Shril 


mid- 


dle sea. 
TVhitber  nwny,  whither  avpar,whlthor  f 

miitber  away  from  Ibo  hiel    „ 

deldt  and  the  happy  blossoming  I 


e  billow  Iha  f( 


snilH, 


I  white  bells  (he  elc 
rull-loned  Bca : 

>  mo  and  to  me:  I 

hither   and  frolla  and   I 


Hither,  ci 
play; 

Here  it  is  onlT  the  mew  that  wails ; 
Wo  will  sing  to  you  all  tho  day; 
Marinor,  mariner,  furl  your  siuls, 
'    m  art)  Iha  hlluCul  downi  u 


dales. 


•rrily,  merrily  a 


And  the  apangla  dou* 

And  tho  rainbow  farms  and  flies  i 

Oti^t  tha  islands  free ; 

Aud  tba  tnlubow  Uvea  In  the  cu 

the  sand ; 
Hither,  come  hither  nnd  Bee  ; 
And  the  rainbow  hangs  on  the  polrfng    I 


A  DIRGE. 


% 


And  sweet  shall  your  welcome  be  : 
O  hither,  come  hither,  and  be  our  lords, 
For  merry  brides  are  we ; 
We  will  kiss  sweet  Idsses,  and  speak 

sweet  words: 
O  listen,  listen,  your  eyes  shall  glisten 
With  pleasure  and  love  and  jubilee  : 
O  listen,  listen,  your  eyes  shall  glisten 
When  the  sharp  clear  twang  of  ihe 

golden  chords 
Runs  up  the  ridged  sea. 
Who  can  light  on  as  happy  a  shore 
All  the  world  o'er,  all  the  world  o'er  ? 
AVhither  away  ?  listen  and  stay :  mar- 
iner, marmer,  fly  no  more. 

THE  DESERTED  HOUSE. 
I. 
Life  and  Thought  have  gone  away 
Side  by  side, 

JiCaving  door  and  windows  wide  : 
Careless  tenants  tliey  1 

II. 
All  within  is  dark  as  night : 
In  the  windows  is  no  light ; 
And  no  murmur  at  the  door, 
So  frequent  on  its  hinge  before. 

in. 
Close  the  door,  the  shutters  close, 
Or  thro'  the  windows  we  shall  see 
The  nakedness  and  vacancy 
Of  the  dark  deserted  house. 

IV. 

Come  away  :  no  more  of  mirth 
Is  here  or  merry-making  sound. 

The  house  was  builded  of  tne  earth, 
And  shall  fall  again  to  ground. 

V. 

Come  away :  for  Life  and  Thought 
Here  no  lonjger  dwell ; 
But  in  a  city  glorious— 
A  great  and  distant  citv— have  bought 
A  mansion  incorruptible. 
Would  they  could  have  stayed  with 
us!* 


THE  DYING  SWAN. 
I. 
Thk  plain  was  grassy,  wild  and  bare. 
Wide,  wild,  ana  open  to  the  air, 
Which  had  built  up  everywhere 
An  under-roof  of  doleful  gray. 
With  an  inner  voice  the  river  ran, 
Adown  it  floated  a  dying  swan. 
And  loudly  did  lament. 
It  was  the  middle  of  the  day. 
Ever  the  weary  wind  went  on, 

And  took  the  reed-tops  as  it  went. 

II. 

Some  blue  peaks  in  the  distance  rose, 
And  white  against  the  cold-white  sky, 
Shone  out  their  crowning  snows, 
One  willow  over  the  river  wept, 
And  shook  the  wave  as  the  wind  did 

sigh ; 
Above  in  the  wind  was  the  swallow, 
CHiasing  itself  at  its  own  wild  will. 
And  far  thro'  the  marish  green  and 
«tiU 


The  tangled  water-courses  slept. 
Shot  over  with  purple,  and  green,  and 
yellow. 

Ill 

The  wild  swan's  death-hymn  took  the 

soul 
Of  that  waste  place  with  joy 
Hidden  in  sorrow :  at  first  to  the  ear 
The  warble  was  low,  and  full  and  clear; 
And  floating  about  the  uiider-sky. 
Prevailing  in  weakness,  the  coronach  f 

stole 
Sometimes  afar,  and  sometimes  ancar; 
But  anon  her  awful  jubilant  voice, 
With  a  music  strange  and  manifold, 
Flow'd  forth  on  a  carol  free  and  bold ; 
As  when  a  mighty  people  rejoice 
With  shawms,  and  with  cymbals,  and 

harps  of  gold, 
And  the  tumult  of  their  acclaim  la 

roU'd 
Thro'  the  open  gates  of  the  city  afar, 
To  the  shepherd  who  watcheth  tlie  eve- 
ning star. 
And  the  creeping  mosses  and  clamber- 
ing weeds. 
And   the   willow-branches  hoar   and 

dank. 
And  the  wavy  swell  of  the  soughing 

reeds. 
And  the  wave-worn  horns  of  the  echo- 
ing bank, 
And  the  silveiy  marish-flowers  that 

throng 
The  desolate  creeks  and  pools  among, 
Were  flooded  over  with  eddying  song. 

A   DIRGE. 

I. 
Now  is  done  thy  long  day's  work  ; 
Fold  thy  palms  across  thy  breast. 
Fold  thine  armsy  turn  to  thy  rest. 

Let  them  rave. 
Shadows  of  the  silver  birk 
Sweep  the  gi-een  that  folds  thy  grave. 

Let  them  rave. 

ir. 
Thee  nor  carketh  care  nor  slander  ; 
Nothing  but  the  small  cold  worm 
Fretteth  thine  enshrouded  form. 

Let  them  rave. 
Light  and  shadow  over  wander 
O'er  the  green  that  folds  thy  grave. 

Let  them  rave. 

III. 
Thou  wilt  not  turn  upon  thy  bed ; 
Chanteth  not  the  brooding  boo 
Sweeter  tones  than  caliminy  ? 

Let  them  rave. 
Thou  wilt  never  raise  thine  head' 
From  the  green  that  folds  thy  grave. 

Let  them  rave. 

rv. 
Crocodiles  wept  tears  for  thee ; 
The  woodbine  and  eglatero 
Drip  sweeter  dews  than  •tiaitox'*ft\«Kt. 
Let  them  rave. 


TUE  BALLAD 

!  In  the  tree 

kE  folds  Uiy  gTATe. 


Hoond  tiee  blow,  Belf-plBsclied  dBBp, 
^rsmUlo  loese  fidnC  atid  pule, 
Viidlongpun)lea  of  tha  dole. 

Thi?iiB  in  Breiy  il 


Tho  coM-BTOd  klnscups  fine  ; 
Tlia  Trail  bluebell  peeroili  over 


Wild  words  wander  here  Hid  Vb 
Qod-B  grcBt  gifl  of  s[ieep]i  sbuai 
Jliitios  iliy  DieiDmy  cniifused  : 


LOTE  ASa  DEATH. 
What  tlino  tba  mighty    moDii   was 

EatberitiR  light 
Loth  pBoeii  tho  thyroy  plots  of  Far«- 

cllse, 
And  all  abottt  Llm  Toll'd  lib  luatroas 

DsBth,  walklug  all  alone  beneath  a 
id  tftltins  to  hltnsalf,  lirat  mat  bis 


OF  OBJANA. 

And  lend   tlie    NoiUnd  whlrlwtiulB 

Alone  I  wander  to  nud  rio. 

Ere  Ihe  light  on  dark  was  growlnB, 

At  miilnlBbt  the  ooek  wa^  crnwlngr 


Aloud  tUn  hollow  bagle  blowing, 
-wood  blnck  as  night* 
to  the  ngbl, 


WbUe  hliaalul  t 
B;  iiar-shlne  u 


bCBOns." 


"  tbeao  walkB  a_ . 

'n  irept  nnd  Bpf  eod  klj  ihoei 

for  flight ', 


parted  Bald,  "This hour ll 

Tlian  art  the  shadow  of  llCe,  and  as  tht 

Standi  In  the  sun  and  shadows   all 

So  In  tlio  light  of  Eraat  otemltr 

Life  Dmllient  oreutei    the    ilinds  ol 

dcatu  ; 
Tho  shndow  paaaoth  whsa  the  tret 

-—'-.11. 

reign  for  over  OTer  all." 


'  moouliglit, 
id  plight. 


The  bitter 

Ori 

Tho  false. 


bride, 

Orlana 


t.  my  life,  i 


jf  loTo,  my  brldo, 


inid  neHth, 


h  !  narrow,  narrow  wsa  the  space, 

ond,  loud  rmic  out  tho  huglo's  brays, 

Orlaiia. 
h  1  deathflll  stabs  ware  dealt  apaoo, 


her (hon 


How  could  I  loolc  upon  the  < 
"lev  should  hove  BUbb'.l  i 

"*''Orlana- 
They  should  liave  trod  mo  1 


O  brWklne  he 


rt  that  will  not  bCBah, 


i 


THE  MERMAID, 


11 


Hbon  smilest,  but  thou  dost  not  speak, 
And  then  the  tears  run  down  my  cheek, 

Oriaua  : 
"What  wantest  thou  ?  ivhom  dost  thon 
seek. 

Oriana? 

I  crj  aloud  :  none  hear  my  cries, 

Oriana. 
Thou  eomest  atween  me  and  the  skies, 

Oriana. 
I  feel  the  tears  of  blood  arise 
Up  from  my  heart  unto  my  eyes, 

Oriana. 
Within  thy  heart  my  arrow  lies, 

Oriaua. 

O  cursed  hand  !  O  cursed  blow  ! 
Oriana  ! 

0  happy  thou  that  liest  low, 

Oriana ! 
All  night  the  silence  seems  to  flow 
Beside  me  in  my  utter  woe, 

Oriana. 
A  weary,  weary  way  I  go, 

Oriana. 

When  Norland  winds  pipe  down  the 
sea, 

Oriana, 

1  walk,  I  dare  not  think  of  thee, 

Oriana. 
Thou  liest  beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 
I  dare  not  die  and  come  to  thee, 

Oriana. 
I  hear  the  roaring  of  the  sea, 

Oriana. 


CIRCmiSTANCE. 

Two  children  in  two  neighbor  Tillages 
Playing  mad  pranks  along  the  heathy 

leas  j 
Two  strangers  meeting  at  a  festival ; 
Two  lovers  whispering  by  an  orchard 

wall ; 
Two  lives  bound  fast  in  one  with  gold- 

en  ease  ; 
Two  graves  grass-green  beside  a  gray 

church-tower, 
Wash*d  with  still  rains  and  daisy-blos- 
somed ; 
Two  children  in  one  hamlet  bom  and 

bred  ; 
So  runs  the  round  of  life  from  hour  to 

liour. 


THE 


MEKMAN. 

I. 

Who  would  be, 
A  merman  bold,    « 
Sitting  alone, 
Sinsing  alone. 
Under  the  sea, 
With  a  crown  of  gold, 
On  a  throne  ? 

II. 

I  would  be  a  merman  bold ; 
I  Zvooldsitand  sing  the  whole  of  the 


I  would  All  the  searhalls  with  a  vcdce 

of  power  J 
But  at  night  I  would  roam  abroad  and 

With  the  mermaids  in  and  out  of  the 
rocks, 

Dressing  their  hair  with  the  white  sea- 
flower  ; 

And  holding  them  back  by  their  flow- 
ing locks 

I  would  kiss  them  often  under  the  Bea, 

And  kiss  them  agahi  till  they  kibs'd  uio 
Laughingly,  laughingly  ; 

And  then  we  would  wanc^raway,  awny 

To  the  pale-green  seorgroves  btrui;;hc 
and  high, 
Chasing  each  other  merrily. 

III. 

There  would  be  neither  moon  nor  star; 
But    the  wave  would  moke    music 

above  us  afar- 
Low  thunder  and  light  in  the  magio 
night— 
Neither  moon  nor  star. 
We  would  call  aloud  in  the  dreamy 

dells, 
Call  to  each  other  and  whoop  and  cry 
All  night,  merrily,  merrily  ; 
They  would  pelt  me  with  utarry  span- 
gles and  shells, 
Laughing  and  clapping  their  hands 
between. 
All  night,  merrily,  merrily  : 
But  I  would  throw  to  them  back  in 

mine 
Turkis  and  agate  and  almondine  : 
Then  leaping  out  upon  them  unseen 
I  would  kiss  them  often  under  the 

sea, 
And  kiss  them  again  till  they  kissed 
me 
Laughingly,  laughingly. 
O,  what  a  happy  life  were  mine 
Under  the  hollow-hung  ocean  green ! 
Soft  are  the  moss-beds  under  the  sea ; 
We  would  live  merrily,  merrily. 


THE   MERMAID. 
I. 

Who  would  be 
A  mermaid  fair, 
Singing  alone. 
Combing  her  hair 
Under  the  sea. 
In  a  golden  curl 
With  a  comb  of  pearl. 
On  a  throne  ? 

II. 

I  would  be  a  mermaid  fair ; 

I  would  sing  to  myself  the  whole  of  the 

day; 
With  a  comb  of  pearl  I  would  comb  my 

hair ;  ^ 

And  still  as  I  comVd  I  would  sing  and 

say, 
**  Who  is  it  loves  me?  -^i^o  \o^«^  ixri^ 

mo?" 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT. 


I  would  comb  my  Lair  till  laj  ilugleti 


\fith' 


gold 
iriiiging 


Miaka  under  the  V 


si  lUeit  imniortalilj 


atli  BiJumylQie-flow- 


tlie  brand  sca-nalds  In  tliu  crinu 
loao  silvery  spikoB  oro  iileheat  I 

d  adowii  tha  steep  Uko  a  wave 

yiom  the  diamond-ledges  that  Jnl  (n 

1  would  not  be  hlBa'd  by  ull  n 
wonirt  lisl,  ,      , 

tJie  bold  ineirr  mormeii  under  1 


End  marry  m 


Bui  tbe  k 

Voonie.i . 

"     Uie  braiioUug  Jaapars  under   tbo 

Then  all  the  dry  idod  tbinga  that  be 
*~  Mie  bueleaa  jooBeaa  uniler  the  aen 

iild   ^url    round    my    fillvcr   feet 

Bllenlly, 

AH  lookiiiK  up  tor  the  Iotb  of  me. 
And  l(  I  sbould  carol  aloud,  from  alott 
AU  iLlnga  Umt  are  lotked,  and  borueii, 

uld  lean  ont  from  tbe  bollow  ■phere 

iUl  Igoking  donn  for  tbe  lovo  of  me. 


A  latter  Lutlier,  ana  s  aoldler>pTi»t 
1o  Bcnro  cburch-harpicB  from  tbe  maw 

Oar  dusted  Tofiola  linve  tnDch  ne«d  Ol 

UlBBl 

Tbou  art  no  aabbath-aranler  oC  olj 

Dlsttlrd    from    some   wotm-amker' 

£nt  epurr'd  at  beort  with  Berlest  ei 

To  einbatlBll  and  to  wall  about  llij 

'Wltb  iri>n>wordMl  proof,  battngtohru 
Tiia  buuinilng  of  tbs  drowsy  pulpl 

Half  God's  good   silibatb,  wbUs  tt 

Brow-l>eBis  hladesk below.  Tboutroi 

Mounted  in  beaveii  wilt  eboot  liito  tl 

Arrows  of  llebtnings.  1  will  lUnd  Bi 

THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT. 

O^  eltber  side  the  river  lie 
Lone  fields  nC  barley  aiid  of  rye, 
Ttiat  elutbe  tbe  wulil  and  iiiiiet  thu  ik] 
Aud  tbro'  tbe  field  tiie  road  runa  bj 

To  many-lower'd  t;aniBlot ; 
And  up  and  down  tbe  people  go, 

le  where  tbe  lilies  blow 


•biton,  aapena  aulrer, 


By  the  Laland  in  Ih 
Flowinir  daw 
Four  gray  w 


•Liver ' 


ir  giay  to 


,^0  Dtfloweri, 

Aud  tbe  silent  isle  inibiiwera 

The  Lady  of  Sbalott, 
Bv  the  maraln.  willow-vell'd. 
Slide  tbe  heavy  barcBB  trall'd 

TL*ghal]op"lit'etbeilk«i-jail'd 


who  ht 


nelot ; 


leLadyof  ShalotC? 


towec-d  Caiuelot : 
Ana  py  uio  inoon  the  reaper  weary, 
Plllnii  alioaves  in  uplands  airy. 
Lialenlnn,  whispp™  "  'TIs  the  (dry 
Lady  ul  slialutL" 


THE  LADY  OF  SUALOIT. 


18 


PAST  II. 

!raEBE  she  weayes  bv  night  and  day 
A  magic  web  with  colors  gay. 
She  has  heard  a  whisper  say, 
▲  corse  is  on  her  if  she  stay 

To  look  down  to  Camelot. 
She  knows  not  what  the  curse  may  be, 
And  so  she  weayeth  steadily, 
And  little  other  care  hath  she. 

TheLadyof  Shalott. 

And  movine  thro*  a  mirror  clear 
That  hangs  oefore  her  all  the  year. 
Shadows  of  the  world  appear. 
There  she  sees  the  highway  near 

Winding  down  to  Camelot : 
There  the  river  eddy  whirls, 
And  there  the  surly  yillage-churls. 
And  the  red  cloaks  of  market-girls, 

Pass  onward  from  Shalott. 

Sometimes  a  troop  of  damsels  glad. 
An  abbot  on  an  amblinepad, 
Sometimes  a  curly  shepnerd-lad« 
Or  long-hair'd  page  in  crimson  clad. 

Goes  by  to  tower'd  Caraelot ; 
And  sometimes  thro'  the  mirror  blue 
The  knights  come  riding  two  and  two : 
She  hath  no  loyal  knight  and  true. 

The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

But  in  her  web  she  still  delights 
To  weaye  the  mirror's  mag^c  sights. 
For  often  thro'  the  silent  nights 
A  funeral,  with  plumes  and  lights, 

And  music,  went  to  Cnmoloc : 
Or  when  the  moon  was  oyerhead, 
Came  two  young  loyers  lately  wed ; 
*'I  am  hsXt  sick  of  shadows,*'  said 

The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

PABT  III. 

A  BOW-SHOT  from  her  bower-eaves, 
He  rode  between  the  barley-sheaves, 
The  sun  came  dazzling  thro*  the  leaves, 
And  flamed  upon  the  Drazeu  greaves 

Of  bold  Sir  Lancelot. 
A  red-cross  knight  for  ever  kneel'd 
To  a  lady  in  his  shield, 
That  sparkled  on  the  yellow  field. 

Beside  remote  Snalott. 

The  gemmy  bridle  glitter*  d  free, 
Like  to  some  branch  of  stars  we  see 
Hung  in  the  golden  Galaxy. 
The  bridle  bells  rang  merrily 

As  he  rode  down  to  Camelot 
And  from  his  blazon'd  baldric  slung 
A  mighty  silver  bugle  hung, 
A2id  as  he  rode  his  armor  rung. 

Beside  remote  Shalott. 

All  in  the  bine  unclouded  weather 
Thick-Jewell'd  shone  the  saddle-leath- 
er, 
The  helmet  and  the  helmet  feather 
Burned  like  one  burning  flame  to- 
gether. 
As  he  rode  down  to  Camelot. 
Am  often  thro'  the  purple  night. 


Below  the  starry  clusters  bright. 
Some  bearded  meteor,  trailing  light. 
Moves  oyer  still  Shalott. 

His    broad    clear  brow    in  sunlight 

elow'd ; 
On    Dumish'd  hooves  his  war-horse 

trode ; 
From  underneath  his  helmet  flow'd 
His  coal-black  curls  as  on  he  rode. 
As  he  rode  down  to  Camelot. 
From  the  bank  and  from  the  river 
He  flash'd  into  the  crystal  mirror, 
*'Tirra  lirra,**  by  the  river 
Sang  Sir  Lancelot. 

She  left  the  web,  she  left  the  loom. 
She  made  three  paces  thro'  the  room, 
She  feaw  the  water-lily  bloom, 
She  saw  the  helmet  and  the  plume. 

She  look'd  down  to  Camelot. 
Out  flew  the  web  and  floated  wide  : 
The  mirror  crack'd  from  side  to  side  : 
*'  The  curse  is  come  upon  me,"  cried 

The  Iiady  of  Shalott. 

PART  IV. 

In"  the  stormy  east-wind  straining, 
The  pale  yellow  woods  were  waninc;, 
The  broad  stream  in  Ills  banks  com- 
plaining, 
Heavily  tlie  low  sky  raining 

Over  tower'd  Camelot ; 
Down  she  came  and  found  a  boat 
Beneath  a  willow  left  afloat. 
And  round  about  the  prow  she  wrote 

The  Lady  qf  Shalott, 

And  down  the  riyer*s  dim  expanse-^ 
like  some  bold  seer  in  a  trance. 
Seeing  all  his  own  mischance — 
With  a  glassy  countenance 

Did  she  look  to  Camelot. 
And  at  the  closing  of  the  day 
She  loosed  the  chain,  and  down  she 

lay; 
The  broad  stream  bore  her  far  away, 

TheLadyof  Shalott. 

Lying,  robed  in  snowy  white 
That  loosely  flew  to  left  and  right — 
The  leaves  upon  her  falling  light — 
Thro*  the  noises  of  the  night 

She  floated  down  to  Camelot : 
And  as  the  boat-head  wound  along 
The  willowy  hills  and  fields  among. 
They  heard  her  singing  her  last  song, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

Heard  a  carol,  mournful,  holy. 
Chanted  loadly,  chanted  lowly. 
Till  her  blood  was  frozen  slowly. 
And  her  eyes  were  darken*d  wholly, 

Tum'd  to  tower'd  Camelot ; 
For  ere  she  reach*d  upon  the  tida 
The  flrst  house  by  the  water-side, 
Singing  in  her  song  she  died. 

The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

Under  tower  and  balcony. 
By  garden-wall  and  gaWexy, 


MARIANA  jy  THE  SOUTH. 

A  cliamine  ihspe  she  Boateil  b; 
DewL^Lc  TieCwBan  Ui    ' 


Bl  ligii. 


The  ZAviff  0/ Slialolt. 
"Wliota  tlila?  find  what  is  hera 
And  til  the  UglilBd  palniMi  near 


Uledlii 

AnU  UiBT  oroBB'd  Ih 

AU  the  knlf 

BntLBntslotmaiec 


seliei  tor  fsar. 
luile  spAca ; 


OwlluhltinKi 


i»  muroy  lo 
lielidyol 


In  iw  dusty  Tl 

[nMilaa  rid^fe  upon  liie  right, 
1  «mply  rlvor-bEd  belore, 
lit  BballowB  an  a  dlntant  short, 
itrliig  land  anil  Inlets  brlEbt. 
Jul  ■'  Ave  Mury,"  made  Btu  moan, 
And  ■■Ave   Miuy,"    ntght   and 

lud  "aA,"  she  Bang,  "to  bo  nil 

To  IItb  forgotlen.  and  lovoloc- 

ta  her  earol  sadder  pew 

am  brow  and  bosom  bIowIj-  down 


ly  eyes  di 


To  IlTo  forgotten,  u 


»  henelf  she  cut, 

Dwurauur  jfMdy  miumur'd  abo  ; 

Complaining,  "  Slother.  give  nio  gtace 

To  help  me  ol  my  weary  load." 

And  oil  the  liquid  mirror  glow'd 

The  ulear  pertooUoii  ot  liur  [ai:e. 

■■  Is  thiB  tba  form,"  aha  madfl  her 


Kor  any  cl 
latdayfiici 


And  eeem'd  liuee-duep  in  mnuntoi 

AninieBtd  her  natiis  bnesel  pass, 

And  runlets  babbling  down  the  clen. 

She    breathed  la    sleep  a^owf 

And  murmuring,  OS  Btitigbt  an 
8bo  thought,  "My  Epirit  Is  licro    I 
"WalltB  forgotten,  nnd  is  foriom." 
Dreaming,  she  knew  It  was  a  dren 
She  fell  be  was  a»d  waa  not  thi 

BliD  wolia  :  Uie  babble  nt  tlia  itrt 

FeJl,  and,  without,  thoeteady  glare 
Sbianli  one  sick  wliJow  sere  and  smalL    I 
Tho  rlvei-bed  nas  dusty-whllo  i  ' 

And  a)l  the  fumni^o  of  the  Ugbt 
Struck  up  agiiinet  tlie  blludiiia  wall. 
'"■"  whiBpei-'d,  with  aatlfled  nioai 
—  . ■  ......  ..  nijiii,  0,    I 


More  Inward 
"Sweet  Mother,  let 


I.We  torgotlQn  nnd  die  forlaru." 
And.  rising,  from  hor  boHim  drew 

Old  latteia,  brentliltig  ot  lier  worth, 
For  "  Lore,"  they  aaid^  -'muat  needs 

To  what  (s  loveliest  upon  eorlli."' 

To  look  at  her  wlthslichr,  and  »ay, 
■-  But  now  thy  beauty  fows  away. 


TcyeB 


"  line  thou  Shalt  bo  a ...    

From  beat  to  boat  the  day  decreHSOd, 
And  slowly  rounded  to  tho  east 
rhe  one  block  ahodovr  frotii  the  wall. 
"  Tha  day  to-night,"  aha  made  her 

"The  day  to-ntgbt,  the  night  to 


ELEANOJIE. 


15 


/ 


Hearen  over  Heaven  rose  the  nlsht. 
And  weeping  then  she  made  her 

moan. 
"  The  night  comes  on  that  knows 
^^  not  mom, 

When  I  shall  cease  to  be  all  alone, 
To  live  forgotten,  and  love  for- 
lorn." 


ELEANOBE. 

I. 

Thy  dark  eyes  open*d  not, 
Kor  first  reveal'd  themselveB  to  Eng- 
lish air. 
For  there  is  nothing  here. 
Which,  from  the  outwtird  to  the  inward 

brought, 
Moulded  thy  baby  thought. 
Far  off  from  human  neighborhood, 

Thou  wert  bom,  on  a  summer  mom, 
A  mile  beneath  the  cedar-wood. 
Tliy  bounteous  forehead  was  not  f ann*d 
With  breezes  from  our  oaken  glades, 
But  thou  wert  nursed  in  some  delicious 
land 
Of  lavish light4S,  and  floating  shades: 
And  flattering  thy  cliildish  thought 
The  oriental  fairy  brought, 
At  the  moment  of  thy  birth. 
From  old  well-heads  of  haunted  rills. 
And  the  hearts  of  purple  hills, 

And  shadow'd  coves  on  a  sunny 
shore. 
The  choicest  wealth  of  all  the 
earth. 
Jewel  or  shell,  or  starry  ore, 
To  deck  thy  ci-adle,  Eleancre. 

II. 

Or  the  yellow-banded  bees, 
Thro'  half-open  lattices 
Coming  in  the  scented  breeze. 

Fed  thee,  a  child,  lying  alone. 
With  whitest  honey  in  fairy  gardens 

cuU'd— 

A  glorious  child,  dreaming  alone, 

In  silk-soft  folds,  upon  yieldinj 
down. 
With  the  hum  of  swarming  bees 

Into  dreamful  slumber  lull'd. 


»g 


III. 

Who  may  minister  to  thee  ? 
Smumer  herself  should  minister 

To  thee,  with    fruitage    golden- 
rinded 
On  golden  salvers,  or  it  may  be. 
Youngest  Autumn,  in  a  bower 
Grape-thicken'd  from  the  light,  and 
blinded 
With  many  a  deep-hued  bell-like 
flower 
Of  fragrant  trailers,  when  the  air 
Sleepeth  over  all  tlie  heaven, 
And  the  crag  that  fronts  tho  Even, 
All  along  the  shadowy  shore, 
OrimsoDB  over  an  inland  mere, 
EleftQorc  ! 


IV. 


How  may  fuU-sail'd  verse  express. 
How  may  measured  words  adore 
The  full-flowing  harmony 
Of  thy  swan-like  stateliness, 
Ele&nore  ? 
Tlie  luxuriant  symmetry 
Of  thy  floating  gracefulness, 
Eleanore  ? 
Every  turn  and  glance  of  thine, 
Every  lineament  divine, 

Eleanore, 
And  the  steady  sunsetglow. 
That  stays  upon  thee  ?  f^r  in  thee 
Is  nothing  sudden,  nothing  single : 
Like  two  streams  of  incense  free 
From  one  censer,  in  one  shrine, 
Thought  and  motion  mingle. 
Mingle  ever.   Motions  flow 
To  one  another,  even  as  tho* 
They  were  modulated  so 
To  an  unheard  melody, 
Which  lives  about  thee,  and  a  sweep 

Of  richest  pauses,  evermore 
Drawn  from  each  other  mellow-deep ; 
Who  may  express  thee,  Elefinoro  ? 

V. 

I  stand  before  thee,  EleUnore ; 

I  see  thy  beauty  gindually  unfold, 
Daily  and  hourly,  more  and  more. 
I  muse,  as  in  a  trance,  tho  while 

Slowly,  as  from  a  cloud  of  gold 
Comes  out  thy  deep  ambrosial  smile. 
1  muse,  as  in  a  trance,  whene'er 

The  languors  of  the  love-deep  eyes 
Float  on  to  me.  I  would  I  were 

So  tranced,  so  rapt  in  estasies. 
To  stand  apart,  and  to  adore, 
Gazing  on  thee  for  evermore, 
Serene,  imperial  Eleanore ! 

vr. 

Sometimes,  with  most  intensity 

Gazing,  I  seem  to  see 

Thought  folded  over  thought,  smiling 

asleep 
Slowly  awaken'd,  grow  so  full  and  deep 
In  thjr  large  eyes,  that,  overpower'd 

quite, 
I  cannot  veil,  or  droop  my  sight. 
But  am  as  nothing  in  its  light : 
As  tho'  a  star,  in  inmost  heaven  set, 
Ev'n  while  we  gaze  on  it, 
"Should  slowly  round  his  orb,  and  slowly 

grow 
To  a  full  face,  there  like  a  sun  remain 
Fix'd— then  as  slowly  fade  again, 

And  draw  itself  to  what  it  was  be- 
fore; 

So  full,  so  deep,  so  slow. 

Thought  seems  to  come  and  go 

In  thy  large  eyes,  imperial  Elea- 


nore. 


VII. 


As  thunder-clouds  that,  hung  on  high, 
Koof'd  the  world  with  doubt  and 


fear, 


boating  thro*  an  evenlw^  a\;mcA\>\i'&x^, 
Grow  golden  all  about,  tlio  a'W's  \ 


THE  MILLERS  DAUGHTER. 


I 


Tnthoe  all  pawlon  bflpoinfle  pBeelonleflfl, 
Toiieli'dbvtljr«pirir«uialIoHnBm, 

FallinE  into  &  biUI  dellglicl 

And  luiai?  at  cunMoiplatlon  : 

'  Bomrg  elide,  and  lying  still 
Shadaw  forth  the  baitka  si  will : 

PreXBLni;  up  oesliuC  tlie  land, 

Wlili  motions  of  the  outer  eea  : 
And  tliB  self-ume  Inlluonue 
ControllBlH  all  the  »onl  ai.d  genie 

Ot  PBMlon  gazing  upon  tliee. 
ElBbaw-atrtngalacfcen'd,  languid  Love, 

Leaning  hln  cheek  upon  ids  hand, 
Droops  both  IU«  wlnja,  reESriilug  thoe. 
And  BO  would  laiiguiBh  OTormoro, 
Serene,  imperial  K^e^ore, 


Or,  InajlindowYsaloon, 
On  ellken  cusbionB  halt  reclined ; 

I  xatidi  tby  grace  ;  and  in  its  placo 
My  heart  ft  chlijTnQd  slumber  keorw, 

Wldle  I  muie  upon  ihy  lace ; 
And  a  IftDgDld  ^re  c:reopa 
Thro'  my  vol  ni  to  all  my  frame, 
DlaBoWliigly  and  slowly !  soon 

Prom  t&  ro«e-red  lips  iiv  nama 
Floweth  :  and  Ihon,  na  In  a  iwoon. 
Wtli  dinning  sound  my  ears  are  rife. 
My  tremulous  tongne  falteraih, 
I  foae  ray  cnlor,  I  Idbb  my  breaih, 
I  drink  tbe  onp  of  a  coBtly  dell,tl^ 
Brlmm'd  with  delirious  draugbli    o[ 


I  uwafrf  be  dyliigeTermore,      ' 
Bo  dying  ever,  Eloanore. 

THE   MU-LEK'S   DAUGHTER. 

His  double  chin,  his  (Brtly  «i™. 
And  vrbo  that  knew  hini  could  forget 

The  busy  wrinkles  ronndhls  eyes? 
The  slow  wlFB  Bmlle  that,  roundabout 

KildiMtt  forehead  '-■ 
Seem'dhHlf-    "  ■" 


ill  or  dt 


Irrly  cnrl'd, 
Ihatf-nithouC, 
with  the  world  ? 


(B  him  Bl 


I  «eo  his  gray  eyes  twinkle  yet 
At  his  own  JBsl— gray  eyes  lit  np 

With  Bnmmer  Jlnhtidnga  of  a  lonl 
So  full  of  summer  warmth,  BO  glad, 

So  healthy.  Bound,  and  dear  and  whole, 


BU  mef 


"iSiu 


Pray,  Alice,  pray,  iny  darling  wife, 
That  we  nuy  die  the  aeU-eaioe  dar. 

HftTSi  not  found  a  happy  earth? 
1  loaBt  should  bieaOiB  a.  IhougUt  alM 

Would  liod  renew  me  from  my  bl 

So  awoot  it  seems  with  thoe  lo  wal„, 

And  oEi^e  agnln  lo  woo  tbmi  mluo—    J 
It  seeniB  In  after-dUiuer  talk  I 


)wn  upon  the  village  splro  ; 
■are,  where  I  and  you 


By  so 


Id  skylai'k'B 


And  oft  I  heard  the  tender  dora 

1  had  no  modonuf^my  unii."^" 
^BVforo"^l"^d^^d"'  S^l'  ""l"^''' 
Still  Idthcr  thillier  Idly  Bway'd 


The  milldam   ruBhlii    down    witi  | 
Ind  Bee  the  minnowa  eyerywhe' 
In  crTBIal  eddies  glance  and  p 

Below  the  range  ot  stopping  sloliei^" 

n  masses  thick  with  milky  com 
Butj_  Alice,  what  an  hour  was  tli 


TeroellatcnliiH  lo  the  broi 


I  had  Bomewhere  read, 


came   a  thousand  \ 
In  laiy  mood 


And  there  a  vision  caught  my 
A  Blowing  arm,  agleamlngnl 
Within  Ihe  dirk  atiTdi^SiW 


H 


j_ 


THE  MILLERS  DAUGHTER, 


17 


For  yon  remember,  you  had  set, 

That  morning,  on  the  casement-edge 
A  long  green  box  of  mignonette, 

And  you  were  leaning  from  the  ledge: 
And  when  I  raised  my  eyee,  above 

They  met  with  two  so  full  and  bright- 
Such  eyes  !  I  swear  to  you,  my  love, 

That  these  have  never  lost  their  light. 

I  loved,  and  love  dispell'dthe  fear 

That  I  should  die  an  early  death : 
For  love  possess'd  tl:.e  atmosphere, 

And  flird  the  breast  with  purer  breath. 
My  mother  thought,  What  ails  the  boy? 

ifor  1  was  altered  and  began 
To  move  about  the  house  witli  joy, 

And  with  the  certain  step  of  man. 

I  loved  the  brimming  wave  that  swam 

*Tiiro*  quiet  meadows  round  the  mill, 
The  sleepy  pool  above  the  dam, 

The  pool  beneath  it  never  stilL 
The  meal-sacks  on  the  whiten'd  floor, 

The  dark  round  of  the  dripping  wheel, 
The  very  air  about  the  door 

Made  misty  with  the  floating  meal. 

And  oft  in  ramblings  on  the  wold. 

When  April  nights  began  to  blow. 
And  Aprirs  crescent  glimmer'd  cold, 

I  saw  the  village  lights  below ; 
I  knew  your  taper  far  away. 

And  full  at  heart  of  trembling  hope, 
From  oft  the  wold  I  came,  andlay 

Upon  the  f reshly-flower'd  slope. 

The  deep  brook  groan*d  beneath  the 
mill; 

And  *♦  by  that  lamp,"  I  thought,  "she 
sits!*' 
The  white  chalk-quarry  from  the  hill 

Gleam'd  to  the  flying  moon  by  fits. 
**  O  that  I  were  beside  ner  now  1 

O,  will  she  answer  if  I  call  ? 
O,  would  she  give  me  vow  for  vow. 
Sweet  Alice,  &  I  told  her  all  ?  '* 

Sometimes  I  saw  you  sit  and  spin  ; 

And.  in  the  pauses  of  the  wind. 
Sometimes  I  heard  you  sing  within  ; 

Sometimes  your  shadow  crossed  the 
blind. 
At  last  yon  rose  and  moved  the  light, 

And  the  long  shadow  of  the  chaOr 
Flitted  across  into  the  night, 

And  all  the  casement  durken'd  there. 

But  when  at  last  I  dared  to  speak, 
The  lanes,  you  know,  were  white 


4 


Tour  ripe  lips  moved  not,  but  your 
cheeK 

Flush*d  like  the  coming  of  tho  day ; 
And  so  It  was— half -sly,  half-shy. 

Tou  would  and  would  not,  little  one! 
Although  I  pleaded  tenderly, 

And  you  and  1  were  all  alone. 

And  slowly  was  my  mother  brought 
To  3rield  consent  to  my  desire  : 

She  wish*d  roe  happy,  but  she  thought 
I  mif^t  have  look*d  a  little  higher ;    . 

And  I  was  joung-^too  young  to  wed  :    / 


"  Yet  must  I  love  her  for  your  sake ; 
Qo  fetch  your  Alice  here,"  »he  said : 
Her  eyelid  quiver'd  as  she  spake. 

And  down  I  went  to  fetch  my  bride  : 

But,  Alice,  you  were  ill  at  ease  ; 
This  dress  and  that  by  turns  you  tried, 

Too  fearful  that  you    should  not 
please. 
I  loved  you  better  for  your  fears, 

I  knew  you  could  not  look  but  well ; 
And  dews,  that  would  havefall'nin 
tears, 

I  kiss'd  away  before  they  fell. 

I  watch'd  the  little  flutterings, 

The  doubt  my  mother  would  not  see; 
She  spoke  at  large  of  many  things. 

And  at  the  last  she  spoke  of  me  ; 
And  turning  look'd  upon  your  face. 

As  near  this  door  you  sat  apart. 
And  rose,  and,  with  a  silent  grace 

Approaching,  press'd  you  iieart  to 
heart. 

Ah,  well— but  sing  the  foolish  song 

I  gave  you,  Alice,  on  the  day 
When,  arm  in  arm,  we  went  along, 

A  pensive  pair,  and  you  were  gay 
With  bridal  flowers— that  I  may  seem. 

As  in  the  nichts  of  old,  to  lie 
Beside  the  mill-wheel  in  the  stream, 

While  those  full  chestnuts  whisper 
by.  

It  is  the  miller's  daughter. 
And  she  is  ^own  so  dear,  so  dear, 

That  I  wouldbe  the  jewel 
That  trembles  at  her  ear, 

For  hid  in  ringlets  day  and  night, 

I'd  touch  her  neck  so  warm  and 
white. 

And  I  would  be  the  girdle 
About  her  dainty  dainty  waist. 

And  her  heart  would  beat  against 
me. 
In  sorrow  and  in  rest. 

And  I  should  know  if  !t  beat  right, 

I'd  clasp  it  round  so  close  and  tight* 

And  I  would  be  the  necklace. 
And  all  day  long  to  fall  and  rise 

Upon  her  balmy  bosom. 
With  her  laughter  or  her  sighs. 

And  I  would  lie  so  light,  so  light, 

I  scarce  should  be  unclasp'd  at  night. 

A  trifle,  sweet  I  which  true  love  spellft— 

True  love  interprets— right  alone. 
His  light  upon  the  letter  dwells, 

For  all  the  spirit  is  his  own. 
So  if  I  waste  words  now,  in  truth 

You  must  blame  Love.  His  early  race 
Had  force  to  make  me  rhyme  in  youth 

And  makes  me  talk  too  much  in  age. 

And  now  those  vivid  hours  are  gone, 
Like  my  own  life  to  me  thou  art. 

Where  Past  and  Present,  wouxvdii\.<m!^ 
Do  make  a  garland  lot  I^Ck'haucXt  \ 

So  sing  that  other  son^;!  madLd, 


18  <ENO. 

H»U-aiieBr*d  Tritt)  my  tappy  lot. 
Ibe  day.  wheu  iii  tho  cheauut  shikdo 


LoTO  tliM  hBth  OB  in  tbe  net 
Cim  he  pou.  and  we  forgot  7 
Many  SI- ' '  — 

Lore  Id  Iiurl  willi  Jar  aiiil  fr 
Love  iB  mttde  a  yaguc  i  ogrel 


Look  Ihio"  mine  ejeB  wltli  t 
Koum^  my  trno  heart  t 
«»  oUior  Ueurec  lifo  in  life, 


Mn. 


li  uiy  (liadn  of  years. 

■licil  K  many  tean, 
iitce  SnC  1  knen'  tbi 


y«t  toaia  Ihey  shed  ;  Ihey  lad  thelx 
Of  BOfrow  :  for  wht^n  time  WHJ>  ripe, 

liacMoe  BiioMwai-d  brontliing  type, 
mat  iiito  BtUlneas  iiost  aenlii. 

And  left  a  niiil  unknown  before  : 
Aitboueli  thcloas  that  htounlit  ub  pnin, 

Ttiatloa  Sue  mulB  ua  loio  tliu  mote. 
With  farther  loolilngs  on.    TheltlBs, 

Weak  tymboU  of  tiie  settled  WUa, 
•The  comfort.  I  have  found  In  thee  : 
But  that  God  blasB  thee,   doai^nho 


r.";a» 


WithhletB...,..-. - 

With  bleMlugs  which 

find. 
ArlBe.  and  let 


3 


idor  forth. 

.e  BUneet.  wiuth  and  norQ], 
the  Tale  In  rosy  folds. 

Siiichln'it  iho  BiiUen  pool  below  : 

i^itJie  o]LB!k-hl11  Uifl  beardHl  Rraea 

'     '  '  '  iwleuB.    LotuBgo. 


I.oTB,  I,OTe,  Una  1  O  wiaaring 
might  1 
n,  ttat  from  thy  noonday  height 


LBHt  night  I  wasted  hatefnlboun 

I  thh-BLed  for  the  btookB,  the  tho'iren 
I  roll'd  DmouE  the  tender  Uoweta  : 
I  cruali'd  theia  on  my  breaic,  r 

I  look'd  aihwait  the  bumlnE  droo 
Of  that  long  dMcrt  to  tho  Boutli. 
List  night  when  Bomo  ono  cpoke  1 
From  my  cnift  blood  that  went  a: 
A  UiouBOud  llttlo  Ehaf  ts  ot 


niy  jiarroiv  frama. 


a  deep  gardeni,    I 


My  lips,  an  almll, 
Before  hemounW 
1:1 0  comelh  quicklj 
Sweet   galea,  as  fi 

Before  him,  attlkli 
li\  my  dry  brain 
Bown-deepeuiiig    from    swoon    ti 

F^ta  tike  a  doziled  moinlng  moon 
The  B-lud  soundB  like  s  Bilver  wire. 
And  flora  beyond  tho  noon  a  Urn 
iB  iiour'dapon  the  bllli,  and  nlgher 
Thu  BkJes  atoop  down  In  Ihelr  deElio, 

AnU.  l^led  In  Bucltleii  seas  of  light, 

:My  heart,  pierced  thio'  with  derm 
dfllght. 

Bursts  imo  blofBom  UihlB  sight 
Mv  whole  pool  irnltlna  Bllenlly, 
All  naked  In  a  sultry  aky. 
Droops  blinded  with  his  dlnins  eyo  ■> 
I  TriirposBen  him  or  will  die. 

I  will  grow  round  him  in  hli  nlaeiL 

Grow,  live,  die  looking  on  his  race. 

Die,  dying,  cloBp'd  inhls  embnoe. 


TuEni!  lleaaTaleinTdn,  lovelier 
Than  all  the  Talleya  uf  Ionian  hills. 
The  Bwlmmlng  vapor  slopes  athWBrt 

the  glen, 
Puts  forth  an  arm,  and  creeps  from 

pine  lo  pine. 
And  loltorB,  slowly  drawn.    On  either 

hand 
The  EawnBondmeadow.ledgflB  midway 

Hand  ileh  In  floweta,  and  far  below 

them  roan 
Tho  long  brook  falling  thro'  the  ck 


Monraful  CEnono.  warulerl 


(ENONE. 


ID 


/ 


Of  Parte,  once  her  playniAte  on  tihe 

hills. 
Her  cheek  had  lost  the  rose,  and  round 

her  neck 
Floated  her  hair  or  Beem*d  to  float  in 

rest. 
She,  leaning  on  a  fragment  twined 

with  vine. 
Sang  to  the  Btillness,  till  the  mountain- 

sliode 
Sloped  downward  to  her  seat  from  the 

upper  clilf . 

"  O  mother  Ida,  many-f  onntain*d  Ida, 
Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
Por  now  the  noonday  quiet  holds  the 

hill : 
The  grasshopper  is  silent  in  the  grass; 
The  lizard,  with  his  shadow  on  the 

stone, 
Bests  like  a  shadow,  and  the  cicala 

sleeps. 
The  purple  flowers  droop :  the  golden 

bee 
Is  lily-cradled ;  I  alone  awake. 
My  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  my  heart  of 

love, 
My  heai-t  is  breaking,  and  my  eyes  are 

dim, 
And  I  am  all  aweary  of  my  life. 

**  O  mother  Ida,  many-fountain'd  Ida, 
Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ero  1  die. 
Hear  me,  O  Earth,  hear  me,  O  Hills,  O 

Caves 
That  house  the  cold  crown*d  snake  I  O 

mountain  brooks, 
I  am  the  daughter  of  a  River-God, 
Hear  me,  for  I  will  speak,  and  build  up 

all 
My  sorrow  with  my  song,  as  yonder 

walls 
Rose  slowly  to  a  music  slowly  breathed, 
A  cloud  that  gather'd  shape :  for  it 

maybe 
That,  while  I  speak  of  it,  a  little  while 
My  heart  may  wander  from  its  deeper 

woe. 

"  O  mother  Ida,  many-fountain'd  Ida, 
Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
I  waited  underneath  the  dawnijig  hills. 
Aloft  the  mountain  lawn  was  dewy- 
dark, 
And  dewy-dark  aloft  the  mountain 

pine : 
Beautiful  Paris,  evil-hearted  Paris, 
Leading  a  jet-black  goat  white-horn'd, 

whfte-hooved, 
Came  up  from  reedy  Slmois  all  alone. 

•*  O  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
Far-off  the  torrent  call'd  me  from  the 

cleft  ; 
Far  up  tlie  solitary  morning  smote 
The  streaks   of  virgin  snow.     With 

down-dropt  eyes 
I  sat  alone :  white-breasted  like  a  star 
Fronting  the  dawn  he  moved  :  a  leop- 
ard skin 
Droop'd  from   his  shoulder^  but  his 
0uu»7  hair 


/ 


Clustered  about  his  temples  like  a 
God's; 

And  his  cheek  bxighten'd  as  the  foam- 
bow  brightens 

When  the  wind  blows  the  foam,  and 
all  my  heart 

Went  forth  to  embrace  him  coming  era 
he  came. 

**  Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
He  smiled,  and  opening  out  his  milk« 

white  palm 
Disclosed  a  fruit  of  pure  Hesperian 

gold. 
That  smelt  ambrosially,  and  whilo  I 

look'd 
And  listen'd,  the  full-flowing  river  of 

speech 
Came  down  upon  my  heart. 

**  •  l^Iy  own  OEnonc, 
Beautif ul-browM  (JBnonc.  my  own  soul, 
Behold  this    fruit,  whoso    gloaming 

rindingrav»n 
**For  the  most  fair,"  would  seem  to 

award  it  thine. 
As  lovelier  than  whatever  Oread  haunt 
The   knolls   of  Ida,   loveliest  in  all 

grace 
Of  movement,  and  the  charm  of  mar- 
ried brows.* 

"  Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
He  prest  the  blossom  of  his  lips  to 

mine. 
And  added,  '  This  was  cast  upon  the 

board, 
When  all  the  full-faced  presence  of 

the  Gods 
Ranged  in  the  halls  of  Peleus ;  where- 
upon 
Rose  feud,  with  question  unto  whom 

'twere  due ; 
But  light-foot  Iris  brought  ityester- 

eve. 
Delivering,  that  to  me,  by  common 

voice 
Elected  umpire,  Herfe  comes  to-day, 
Pallas  and  Aphrodite,  claiming  each 
This  meed  of  fairest.  Thou,  within  the 

cave 
Behind  yon  whispering  tuft  of  oldest 

pine, 
Maystwell  behold  them,  unbeheld,  un- 
heard 
Hear  all,  and  see  thy  Paris  judge  of 

Gods.'  , 

**  Dear  mother  Ida,  hearken  ere  I  die. 
It  was  the  deep  midnoon ;  one  silvery 

cloud 
Had  lost  his  way  between  the  piney 

sides 
Of  this  long  glen.    Then  to  the  bower 

they  came. 
Naked  they  came  to  that  smooth-sward' 

ed  bower, 
And  at  their  feet  the  crocus  brake  like 

fire, 
Violet,  amaracus,  and  asphodel. 
Lotos  and  lilies :  and  a  w\\\d  a.iQ««^ 
And  overhead  the  vrawdetVu^  Vv^  «xA 

vine, 


Thin  w«r  una  that,  In  many  a  wild  (e»- 


notlisT  Ida,  hfluken  ere  1 1 
tTBH-iona  n  crested  noacocl 


^ 


Upon  bini,  elovlj  dropping  fragmjit 
Then  OiEt  I  heard  the  toIco  of  her,  to 
Coming  thro'  Hoaveit,  like  A  lighC  ihnb 
Larger  and  cleiuer,  with  one  mind  the 
p  for  rflTereBCQ.  She  to  TarU 
■  of  roTOl  power,  ample  rule 


Andriri 

with  ... 
Or  laboc'd  n 


WiloE"i" 


o  embellish  state,  ■  from 

ndor'dchampal^i  clothed 

iioiiuDdraiuableolore. 
e  laid,  '  and  homOEe,  tax 

;, 

'  on  Inland  town  and  bareD 

IC'dbenestli  becebadowtng 

baya    among    bcr  talloat 

;r  Ida,  barken  ere  I  die. 
ake  on  and  bIUI  she  spake 

111  action  la  Uie  end  of  all ; 


nned    ot    wisdom— 1 


^ 


from 


>,  Heaven's  Queen,  Paiis,  to 
A  BbepberU  alt  thy  life  bnt  yet  klng- 
Bhould  oomo  most  weleomej  aeeing 
Only,  are  lAieet  gods,  who  hsvo  at- 


Beit  in  I.  _ 

Above  the  t 

'u  Imowledgo  uC  Ibeii  own  bu 

"  Dear  nmlheTlda.  barken  pre 
She  ceased,  and  Paris  held  the  < 

■i-lenBtb,    i 

rianer'j 

It  apart,  her  clear  and  bared 

/yflrtAiTrtrtod  irtft  the  braaen-heailed 


Upon  her  pearly  Hbouldcr  IcBninc  cold. 
Ms  whilo,  above,  lier  full  and  aatneat 

Overher  enow.cold  breait  and  ongr^ 

Kept  watch,  wBiling  decision,  mads 


Thesi 


i«lead 


aolf  -  knowledge. 


Would  corns  ancsil'dfor)  but  to  llv*  by 

law,  ' 

Acting  tho   law  wo  live  by  without 

And,  becauBQ  right  ii  right,  to  follow 

WeS^wlBdnm  In  the  scorn  of  codbs- 
qnouce.' 
"l)ear 


So  Bholt  thou  find  me  fairest. 

Viit,  indeed. 
If  gaiing  <m  divinity  dlorobed 
Thy  raorUil  eyes  aro  IruU  to  judge  of 

Unbiaau'dbyaalf-profit,  oil  I  reat  Uieg 

That  I  sbRll  love  Ihsa  well  and  deave 

So  Hint   my  vigor,   wedded    to    iby 

Shall  strike  within  thy  pulgee,  like  a 

To  pnsh  iliee  forward  thro'  a  life  of 

Dangers,  and  deeda,  until  enduranco 

Binew'd  with  action,  and   the   tall- 

nwn  will, 
thro'  all  eTperlenfM,  purel&w. 


Paris, 


er'd,  a 


re  she  c 


Or  bsariiig  would  not  hear  i 


Papbit 

■Willi  rosj 
drew 


iv-foimtain'dlfia, 
I- IlUe. 

foun,    nevr-ballied  In 
n  Weill, 
sleniler  fingen   backward 

'flrrn  brows  and  boaom 

goMoii   round  her  ludd 

ler :  from  the  Tioteta  h 


(ENONE. 


7" 


-t- 


Between  the  ahadows  of   the  vine- 

btmches 
Floated  the  glowing  f  nnUghtBi  as  she 

moyed. 

<<  Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
She  with  a  subtle  smile  in  her  mild 

eyes, 
The  herald  of  her  trinmph,  drawing 

nigh 
Half-whisper'd  in  his  ear,  *  I  promise 

thee 
The  fairest  and  most  loYing  wife  in 

Greece.* 
She  spoke  and  laugh*d:  I  shut  my 

sight  for  fear: 
But  when  I  look'd,  Paris  had  raised 

his  arm 
And  I  beheld  great  Herd's  angry  eyes, 
As  she  withdrew  into  the  golden  cloud, 
And  I  was  left  alone  withm  the  bower ; 
And  from  that  time  to  this  I  am  alone, 
And  I  shall  be  aluue  until  I  die. 

**  Yet,  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 

Fairest  —  why  fairest  wife  ?  am  I  not 
fair? 

My  love  hath  told  me  so  a  thousand 
times. 

Methinks  I  must  be  fair,  for  yesterday, 

When  I  past  by,  a  wild  and  wanton 
pard, 

Eyed  like  the  eyening  star,  with  play- 
ful tail 

Cronch*d  fawning  in  the  weed.  Most 
loving  is  she  ? 

Ah  me,  my  mountain  shepherd,  that 
my  arms 

Were  wound  about  thee,  and  my  hot 
lips  prest 

Close,  close  to  thine  in  that  quick-fall- 
ing dew 

Of  fruitful  kisses,  thick  as  Autumn 
lains 

Flash  in  the  pools  of  whirling  Simois. 

•*  O  mother,  hear  me  yet  before  I  die. 

They  came,  they  cut  away  my  tallest 
pines. 

My  dark  tall  pines,  that  plumed  the 
*  craggy  ledge. 

High  over  the  blue  gorge,  and  al\  be- 
tween 

The  snowy  peak  and  snow-white  cata* 
ract 

Foster'd  the  callow  eaglet  —  from  be- 
neath 

Whose  thick  mysterious  boughs  in  the 
dark  mom 

The  panther's  roar  came  muffled,  while 
isat 

Low  in  the  valley.  Never,  never  more 

Shall  lone  CEnoue  see  tiie  morning 
mist 

Sweep  thro'  them;  never  see  them 
overlaid 

With  narrow  moon-lit  slips  of  silver 
cloud. 

Between  the  loud  stream  and  the  trem- 
bUuirsteix 


"  O  mother,  hear  me  yet  before  I  die. 
I  wish  that  somewhere  in  the  ruin'd 

folds. 
Among  the  fragments  tumbled  from 

the  glens, 
Or  the  dry  thickets,  I  could  meet  with 

her, 
The  Abominable,  that  uninvited  camo 
Into  the  fair  PeleYan  banquet-hall. 
And  cast  the  golden  fruit  upon  the 

board. 
And  bred  this  change ;  that  I  might 

speak  my  mind, 
And  tell  her  to  her  face  how  much  I 

hate 
Her  presence,  hated  both  of  Gods  and 

men. 

"  O  mother,  hear  me  yet  before  I  die. 
Hath  he  not  sworn  his  love  a  thousand 

times. 
In  this  green  valley,  under  this  green 

hill, 
Ev'n  on  this  hand,  and  sitting  on  this 

stone  ? 
Seard  it  with  kisses?  water'd  it  with 

tears? 
O  happy  tears,  and   how  unlike   to 

these ! 
O  happy  Heaven,  how  canst  thou  see 

my  face  ? 
O  happy  earth,  how  canst  thou  bear  my 

weight  ? 

0  death,  death,  death,  thou  ever  float- 

ing cloud. 
There   are  enough  unhappy  on  this 

earth, 
Pass  by  the  happy  souls,  that  love  to 

live: 

1  pray  thee,  pass  before  my  light  of 

life, 
And  shadow  all  my  soul,  that  I  may 

die. 
Thou  weighest  heavy  on  the  heart 

within, 
Weigh  heavy  on  my  eyelids :  let  mo 

die. 

"  O  mother,  hear  me  yet  before  I  die, 
I  will  not  die  alone,  for  fiery  thoughts 
Do  shape  themselves  within  me,  more 

and  more, 
Whereof  I  catch  the  issue,  as  I  hear 
Dead  sounds  at  night  come  from  the 

inmost  hills. 
Like  footsteps  upon  wool.   I  dimly  see 
My   far-off    doubtful   purpose,   as    a 

mother 
Conjectures  of  the  features  of  her 

child 
Ere  it  is  bom  :  her  child  !  —  a  shudder 

comes 
Across  me :  never  child  be  bom  of  me, 
Unblest,  to  vex  me  with  his  father's 

eyes ! 

"  O  mother,  hear  me  yet  before  T  die. 
Hear  me,0  earth.  1  will  not  <lie  alone, 
Lest  their  shrill  happy  laughter  come 

to  me  \ 

Walking  the  cold  and  6tMiVe«&xo«i\dl  \ 

Death 


\ 


THE  PALACE  OF  ART. 


Untomlnrtoel,  lenvine  tny  andent  'hub 
With  Iha  Ureslc  vonuii.     I  wlU  tiea 

Domi  luH)  TroT,  and  en  tho  stars 

mme  Eortli 
Talk  wlUi  tliB  wild  CassBjidca,  fci  iho 

A  nie  dances  licrore  hir.  and  a  Bound 
Uins»  eyor  In  her  eats  of  armed  men. 
What  tills  na,j  be  I  kuow  not,  Itut  I 

Thaci  wlieneoe'er  I  am  by  nlgbt  and 

All  earth  aad  bIt  seem  only  burning 
firs." 

THE   SISTEKS. 
'Wb  wrm  two  daaebten  of  one  race: 
Sbe  »as  til  a  falresl  In  the  face: 

Tlis  wind  U  blDwlug  In  turret  and 

Thoy  wore  to([Bthor,  and  sbe  (h11  : 
ThoretDta  reveiiBe  beeama  mo  well, 

O  the  Karl  ivas  fall  to  He  I 
She  dlei 


he  wind  iB 


B  intu 


ThBWiiiil  la  roailiiijlii  turret  aiu 

And  after  sapper,  on  a  1>ed. 
Upon  my  lap  liu  laid  hla  head : 

O  the  Earl  was  fair  W  bus  1 
1  ViBB'd  hH  eyelids  into  rcBti 
HlB  ruddy  pheek  upnii  my  breast. 

The  wind  Is  raging  In  turret  aa< 

1  hatodbim  wltli  the  hate  of  hell. 
But  1  loved  liis  beauty  poiuing  well. 

O  the  Karl  was  fair  to  sea  [ 
1  rMe  up  in  the  aiipnt  night: 
I  made  mv  ilBEi;er  Bliarp  aud  bticht. 

The  wind  is  raving  in  turrat  am 

A>  Iuilt-aa*lee 
-■  Tie  limas 

0  the  Earl 


1  vrapt  Ills  body  In  the  sheet, 
■-  ■  ■aid  hini  at  bis  mother's  fe 
Uiel!«rlwa8[airtoBeel 


I  The  wiiiflB 
1  vrapt  Ills  body 
.ftndlaUlhimat 
0  Uie  l!«rl  w 
T( 
JaBKDroa  here 
tFiiryou  tvJJI  anc 


A  tinful  soul  posaCBBM  of  many  ^t», 
A  spacious  gaiden  full  of  liowering 

A  glorious  Dovil.  largo  in  heart  and 

That  did  loTo  Beauty  only,  CQeauty 

In  all  varictin  of  mould  and  mind) 
And  Knowledge  loi  iu  beauty;  or  if 

Good, 
Good  only  foe  IlB  beauty,  seeing  not 
That  Beauty,  Good,  anil  Knowlodge, 


d  ho  that  ehuu  Love 
hall  be 


Moulded  by  God,  and  tempor'd  with    I 
Uioteora  ' 

.If  auEclfl  to  tho  perfect  Bliape  of  m 

THE  PALACE  OF  ART. 
[   BfltT  my  Boul  a  lordly  pleasi 


Dear  eoul,  tor  all  la  well." 
Ahuxpi  crag-platform,  BmooUl  oa 
nub'dbtase, 

Ichose.  TheranEeitrampartsbrlBht 
From  level  niesilow-batos  of  deep itrasa 

Suddenly  scaled  the  lisHl.  °  I 

Tberoon  I  built  itCim.    Of  led^  or    I 

The  lock  roso  clonr,  ot  wlndlue  stair. 
My  soul  would  live  aiouo  luiw  har-" 
In  her  high  palaue  Uiere. 


1 


"  Iteigji  thou  apart,  a 


a  qalet  king.  . 

whirls.  Lis  ated-    I 


Id  thlB  i;reat  n 
So  royal-rlrl 


1  made,  Eiit,  West  ai 


THE  PALACE  OF  ART. 


28 


JUid  zonnd  the  cool  gieen  courts  there 
ran  a  row 
Of  cloisters,  branch'd  like  mighty 
woods, 
Echoing  all  night  to  that  sonorous 
flow 
Of  spouted  f  oimtain-floods. 

And  round  the  roofs  a  gilded  gallery 
That  lent  broad  verge  to  distant 
lands, 
Far  as  the  wild  swan  wings,  to  where 
the  sky 
Dipt  down  to  sea  and  sands. 

From  those  four  jets  four  currents  in 
ono  swell 
Across  the  mountain  stream'd  below 
In  misty  folds,  that  floating  as  they 
fell 
Lit  up  a  torrent-bow. 

Aiid  high  on  every  peak  a  statue  seem*d 

To  hang  on  tiptoe,  tossing  up 
A  cloud  of  incense  of  all  odor  steamed 

From  out  a  golden  cup. 
So  that  she  thought,  *'  And  who  shall 
gaze  upon 

My  palace  with  unblinded  eyes, 
"While  this  great  bow  will  waver  in  the 
sun, 

And  that  sweet  incense  ri^^e  ?  " 

For  that  sweet  incense  rose  and  never 
fail'd. 
And,  while  day  sank  or  mounted 
higher. 
The  light  atrial  frallery,  golden-railM, 
Burnt  like  a  fringe  of  hre. 

likewise  the  deep-set  windows,  stain'd 
and  traced, 
Would  seem  slow-flaming  crimson 
flres 
From  shadow'd  grots  of  arches  inter- 
laced. 
And  tipt  with  frost-like  spires. 
«     •   «     • 

Full  of  long-sounding  corridors  it  was, 
That  ovcr-vaulled  grateful  gloom, 
Thro'  which  the  livelong  day  my  soul 

did  pass, 

Well-pleased,  from  room  to  room. 

Full  of  great  rooms  and  small  the  pal- 
ace stood. 

All  various,  each  a  perfect  whole 
From  living  Nature,  ut  for  every  mood 

And  change  of  my  still  soul. 

For  some  were  hung  with  arras  green 
and  blue, 
ShowiuR  a  gaudy  summer-mom. 
Where  with  pufTd  cheek  the  belted 
hunter  blew 
His  wreathed  bugle-horn. 

One  seem*d  all  dark  and  red— 4i  tract  of 
sand, 
And  some  one  pacing  there  alone, 
Who  paced  for  ever  in  a  glimmenng 
land, 
lit  with  a  low  large  mooiu 


I 


One  8how*d  an  iron  coast  and  angry 
waves. 
You  seem'd  to  hear  them  climb  and 
fall 

And  roar  rock-thwarted  under  bellow- 
ing caves. 

Beneath  the  windy  wall. 

And  one,  a  full-fed  river  winding  slow 
By  herds  upon  an  endleas  plain. 

The  ragged  rims  of  thunder  brooding 
low. 
With  shadow-streaks  of  rain. 

And  one,  the  reapers  at  their  sultry 
toil. 
In  front  they  bound  the  sheaves. 
Behind 
Were  realms  of  upland,  prodigal  in  oil 
And  hoary  to  the  wind. 

And  one,  a  foreground  black  with 
stones  and  sla^. 
Beyond,  a  line  of  heights,  and  higher 
All  barr'd  with  long  white  cloud  the 
scornful  crags. 
And  highest,  snow  and  lira. 

And  one,  an  English  home— gray  twi- 
light pour'd 
On  dewy  pastures,  dewy  trees. 
Softer  than  sleep— all  things  in  order 
stored, 
A  haunt  of  ancient  Peace. 

Kor  these  alone,  but  every  landscape 
fair 
As  fit  for  every  mood  of  mind, 
Or  gay,  or  grave,  or  sweet,  or  stern,  was 
there 
Not  less  than  truth  design'd, 
•       «      «       • 

Or  the  maid-motlier  by  a  crucifix, 
In  tracts  of  pasture  suiniy  warm, 

Beneath   branch-work   of   costly  sar* 
donyx 
Sat  smiling,  babe  in  arm* 

Or  in  a  clear-wall'd  city  on  thd  sea. 
Near  gilded  organ-pipes,  her  hair 

Wound   with    white  roses,  slept  St. 
Cecily : 
An  angel  look'd  at  her. 

Or  thronging  all  one  porch  of  Paradise, 
A  group  of  Houris  Dow'dto  see 

The  dying  Islamite,  with  hands  and 
eyes 
That  said,  We  wait  for  thee. 

Or  mythic  Uther's  deeply-wounded  son 
In  some  fair  space  of  sloping  greens 

Lav,  dozing  in  the  vale  of  Avalon, 
And  walch'd  by  weeping  queens. 

Or  hollowing  one  hand  against  his  ear. 
To  list  a  foot-fall,  ere  he  saw 

The  wood-nymph,  stay'd  the  Ausonian 
king  to  hear 
Of  wisdom  and  of  law. 

Or  over  hills  with  peaky  tops  engraird| 
And  many  a  tract  of  palm  and  rice, 

The  throne  of  Indiaw  Csimai  i^Q'«\^ 
sail'd  * 

A  summer  fann*d  -wilh.  Bp\ce, 


Hh  the  palace  of  art. 

Or  ■weel  Enropa's  manOo  blew  on-  Two  EodllliB  («( 


FroDi    OS    her  uliouliler    bsfkwat 
ITiom  one  band  droop'd  s  crociui :  on 


hkndar 


diA  biiira  golden  hotn. 

1  ainjmede,  bii  ro«J 
thigh 
nutf-tiurlvd  In  tbe  Eagle's  dnwu. 
Bole  as  n  lljii.g  slur  aliol  Uiro-  tlie  sky 

AIkjvoUh;  iiillai'd  Uiwii. 
Not  thesB  iilone ;  but  «Tory  legend  fiUr 
Which  thBBUnremo  Cauowian  nuud 
Carved  out  otlJature  for  luelf,  wbb 

Not  leu  Ui«n  tile,  deidgu'd. 
Than  In  Ihe  lowera  I  placod  grost  bella 

UoTod  of   uiemBelTM,  wllh   ■llvei 
sound : 
And  B-ith  choice  palutlngB  of  wise  men 

ujirannd. 
Foi  theie  was  Mllloa  like  n  seraph 
idehlm  Shakespeare  bland  and 

re    tha    world-worn    Danle 

d  his  song, 

nettbat  grimly  Hzniled. 


roiu  cheek  and  IhroaC  and  uMn. 
Above,  the  I^r  hall-ceiliuf'  stAtoly-set 

Many  an  aroh  hiffh  up  did  iltl. 
And  aneeU  rising  and  de>H»nding  met 

With  lutardiange  of  gitl. 
Below  was  all  mosaic  cholcelv  plann'd 

With  cycles  of  tha  human  tala 
01  Ihfa  wide  world,  the  times  of  aiery 
land 

So  wrought,  Ibey  will  not  fail. 
Ibepeoplebere.a  lieast  of  burden  slow, 

loil'd  onward,   prick'd  with  go**'^ 
and  saiigs ; 
Hero  plsy'il.  k  tiger.  rolHni  to  and  Tro 

The  lieada  and  crowns  otkluBS  i 
Bere  rose,  an  athlete,  strong  to  break 

All  force  In  bonds  that  might  endure, 


And  liuated  aiiy 
But  over  these  e. 


I  trod :  and  those 


1'  the  topmost  Oriels'  colore 


d  largo-btow'd  V«r«  I 
i  tire't  of  Ihoso  who  know- 
all   those   names,  that  '. 


Thro"  nhii-h  t 


I  lights,  rose,  ctmber,  I 


Bive 


lulodies. 

No  nighdngala  deHgliteth  to  prolong 
Uore  than  my  soul  to  Lear  her  e<:ho'd  I 

llirob  thro'  the  ribbed  stone ; 
Singing  and  mununrlng  lu  her  f  oastTul  I 


mirth. 


Joying  to  feel  herself  all-v 
Ard  oier  Nature,  lArd  of 


iba  Tlslbia  I 


night  dirino 
Crow  n'd  dying  day  with  stars, 
Slaking  sweet  cluso  of  hii  delic 

Lit  light  In  wreaths  and  anaden 
And  pom  quintesaeuces  of  preuiout 
111  hullow'd  mixius  of  gems, 

To  mlmicbeaTen;  andoiaptheihandi  I 


Be  llHtter'd  to  the  height. 
'■  O  all  lliliigB  fait  to  sate  mj  vaciciua  I 
O  BliapcB  and  lines  that  please  u 


aOod-liheii'o] 


which  ai 


a  darkening  B 


Whut  time   I   wut 

That  range  on  yonder  plain. 
In  filthy  slODgba  tbey  toll  B  pmrient  I 

Ttiey  graze  and  wallow,  bleed  k 


hen  of  the  moral  Instinct  would  aba  | 
And  of 'the  rising  from  tbe  de 


THE  PALACE  OF  ART. 


2€ 


As  hers  by  right  of  f  iill4MSoompliflh'd 

And  at 'the  last  she  said : 

"I  take  possession  of  man's  mind  and 
deed 

I  care  not  what  the  sects  mav  brawl. 
I  sit  as  God  holding  no  form  of  creed, 

But  contemplatiug  all." 

•       •       #       • 

Fall  oft  the  riddle  of  the  painful  earth 
JHash'd  thro*  her  as  she  sat  alone, 

Yet  not  the  less  held  she  her  solemn 
mirth, 
And  iuteilectoal  throne. 

And  so  she  throre  and  prosper*d :  so 
three  yean 
She  prosper'd :  on  the  fourth  she  fell 
Like  uerody  when  the  shout  was  in  his 
ears, 
Struck  thro'  with  pangs  of  hell. 

Lest  she  should  fail  and  perish  utterly, 
God,  before  whom  ever  lie  bare 

The  abysmal  deeps  of  Personality, 
Plagued  her  with  sore  despair. 

When  she  would  think,  where'er  she 
turn'd  her  sight, 
The  airy  hand  confusion  wroneht. 
Wrote  '*Mene,   mene,"   and  <uvided 
quite 
The  kingdom  of  her  thought. 

l>eep  dread  and  loathing  of  her  soli- 
tude 
Fell  on  her,  from  which  mood  was 
bom 
Scorn  of  herself ;  again,  from  out  that 
mood 
Laughter  at  her  self -scorn. 

**  What !    is    not  this  my    place   of 
strength  ?  "  she  said. 
"  My  spacious  mansion  built  for  me. 
Whereof  the  strong  foundation-stones 
were  laid 
Since  my  first  memory?  '* 

But  in  dark  corners  of  her  palace  stood 
Uncertain  shapes  :  and  unawares 

On   white -eyed  phantasms    weeping 
tears  of  blood, 
And  horrible  nightmares. 

And  hollow  shades  enclosing  hearts  of 
flame. 
And,  with  dim  fretted  foreheads  all. 
On  corpses  three-mouths-old  at  noon 
she  came. 
That  stood  against  the  wall. 

A  spot  of  dull  stagnation,  without 
l^ht 
Or  power  of  movement,  seem'd  my 
soul, 
Mid  onward-sloping  motions  infinite 
Making  for  one  sure  goal. 

A  still  salt  pool,  lock'd  in  with  bars  of 
sand; 
Left  on  the  shore;  that  hears  all 
night 


The  plunging  seas  draw  backward  from 
the  laud 
Their  moon-led  waters  white. 

A  star  that  with  the  choral  starry  dance 
Join'd  not,  but  stood,  and  standing 
saw 

The  hollow  orb  of  moving  Circumstance 
Koll'd  round  by  one  fiz'd  law. 

Back  on  herself  her  serpent  pride  had 
curl'd. 
"  No  voice,"  she  shriek'd  in  that  lone 
hall, 
«  No  voice  breaks  thro*  the  stillness  of 
tMs  world : 
One  deep,  deep  silence  all  I " 

She,  mouldering  with  the  dull  earth's 
mouldering  sod, 

Inwrapt  tenfold  in  slothful  shame. 
Lay  there  exiled  from  eternal  God, 

Jiiost  to  her  place  and  name ; 

And  death  and  life  she  hated  equally, 
And  nothing  saw,  for  her  despair. 

But  dreadful  time,  dreadful  eternity. 
No  coniiort  anywhere. 

Bemaining  utterly  confused  with  fears. 
And  ever  worse  with  growiiie  time, 

And  ever  unrelieved  by  dismal  tears. 
And  all  alone  in  crime  : 

Shut  up  as  in  a  crumbling  tomb,  girt 
round 
With  blackness  as  a  solid  wall, 
Far  off  Hhe  seem'd  to  hear  the  dully 
sound 
Of  human  footsteps  fall. 

As  in  strange  lands  a  traveller  walking 
slow, 

in  doubt  and  great  perplexity, 
A  little  before  moon-nse bears  tne  low 

Moan  of  an  unknown  sea ; 

And  knows  not  if  it  be  thunder  or 
a  sound 
Of  rocks  thrown  down,  or  one  deep 
cry 
Of  great  wild  beasts ;  then  thinketh, 
•*  I  have  found 
A  new  land,  but  I  die." 

She  howl'd  aloud, "  I  am  on  fire  within. 

There  comes  no  murmur  of  reply. 
WTiat  is  it  that  will  take  away  my  sin, 

And  save  me  lest  I  die  ?  " 

So  when  four  years  were  wholly  fin- 
ished. 
She  threw  her  royal  robes  away.        ; 
*'  Make  me  a  cottage  in  the  vale,"  she 
said, 
**  Where  I  may  mourn  and  pray." 

"  Yet  pull  not  down  my  palace  towers, 
that  are 
So  lightly,  beautifully  built : 

Perchance  I  may  return  with  otheis 
there 
When  I  have  purged  my  guilts'* 


/ 


7 


A- 


26  TBE  MAY 

T.Anv  CLARA  VEllE  CB  VEKE. 
XuU>Y  Clara  Vere  dfl  VBre» 

Uf  IDS  you  ilisJI  not  wiji  rantnm : 
Yuu  tkouijlit  bi  lu'eak  &  coonl:^  liasxl 

Ac  iDo  tau  mulleil,  but  uubegulled 
I  BBw  [hs  Biiuie,  and  1  collieil ; 


Lady  Clara  Votb  iIb  VBre, 

IkuDwyou  ptouii  tobearToDrname 
roar  pride  U  yet  no  mota  foe  mine, 

loo  pioud  to  care  fcooi  wlieuL-e  1 

Nor  wouia  I  bteak  for  jour  sweet  saJii 


la  woctli  a  huudieil  uOBtB-of-Bima. 
Lady  Clara  Vara  de  Vero, 
Some  meeker  pupil  you  mnrt  find, 

1  could  not  stoop  tu  sucb  a  iniiid. 
You  songlit  fo  proTB  how  i  eoald  loyB, 

And  my  diaduln  is  my  reply. 
Tlio  llou  on  your  old  Bto»e  eatsB 

JB  not  inoTB  cold  to  you  tnau  1. 
Lady  ClsraVBradB  Vers, 

VoQ  put  strange  memoiies  in  my 

Sot  fbrloB  your  brandling  limea  have 
Sinoe  it  beheld  young  Lnurcnce  dead. 

But  there  was  that  across  hlB  diiaaC 

WUcIi  you  hod  hardly  cued  to  see. 
Lady  Clara  Vera  do  Vere, 

■Wtieii  thoB  ho  met  hia  mothet'B  rtew. 
She  had  Uie  pasMonB  uf  her  kind. 

She  BralieBoniccertnin  truthaof  you. 
Indeed  1  heard  one  bttl«r  word 

That  BcarcB  is  lit  f  nr  ynii  to  hear ; 
Her  insiinoFshad  not  that  r^poFe 

'Which  ntomps  tlie  easts  ci  Vero  de 


Lady  Clara  Voro  da  Vero, 

Tfiera  alanda  aflpociroln  yourhall; 
Theeuiltofliloodlant  your  door! 

You  cbaiiBBj  a  wholeaonia  heart  to 
gall. 
You  lield  your  counewUhontremoree, 

To  make  him  trust  his  modent  north, 

And  slew  Mm  vlUi  your  noble  birth. 
Trofit  me,  Clnra  Vero  flo  Vere, 

From  yon  blue  heavemi  aboTO  ns  bent, 
The  Bardener  Adam  and  lila  wife 

Smllo  at  the  clilmB  of  Ionic  descent, 
Howo'ei  n  be,  tt  seems  lo  me, 

'TIa  only  nobis  to  be  gnoil. 

Andslmplelidt))  than  Norman  blood. 
I  know  you,  Clara  Vera  de  ^'ere. 
Vou  pins   among   your  lialls   and 

rao  JaiiguJd  liabt  otyoar  prouii  eyoB 


QUEEN. 
Is  wearied  of  the  roUlns  houM, 
In    gluwiUB    health,    wlUi    boundl 

But  si;:Kcu^ne  of  n  lagua  disease. 


If  I'll 
Btb( 


PiajH 


.      ,fourlaudsl' 

iho  orphaii-bOY  to  read, 

tke  orpbau-glri  to  sew, 

-n  for  a  human  heart, 

le  foolish  yeomau  go. 


THE  MAY  QTIKEH. 

Yoi;  moat  wake  and  call  me  early,  call  I 

me  early,  mother  doar,  W 

To-morrow  'lU  be  the  bapplBBt  tima  at  I 

allUiBgladNew-ycat!  " 

Of  all  the  glad  New-year,  mother, 

madaesC,  merrieat  day  ;  ■ 

Forl'mlobe6uaano'theMay,iaothBr,  I 

fmlo  Ise  Queen  o' the  May,  I 

Tliere's  manyablaek,  black  eye,  Ihey  I 

TherG's  Maiearet  aixd   Uaiy,  1 
Kata  and  Caroline : 

'  '    as  little  Alice  InaU'l 


So  rni  6 


^^1^1:. 


1  sleep  BO  sound  all  night,  mother. 

If  you  do  not  call  mo  loud  nhoii 

day  begins  to  break  ; 
But  I  must  gather  knots  of  flowen. 

tQ_  lie   Queen  o'  the   Sfay,  ,1 


lar.l'i 


a   Queo 
■  toboiii 


As  I  came  up  the  yalley  whom  think  1 
ye  abould  I  Boe,  I 

But  Kobin  leanlnc  on  the  bridga  ba- 

Ue  thought  of  that  ^arp  look,  molLer, 

1  gave  liim  yeiiBrday,— 
But  r  m  lo  bo  Queen  o-  the  May, 

uother,l'mtobeQueeno'tlieMay. 
Hs  thought  T  was  a  ghost,  motber,  fcr 

Iwasall  ill  white, 
And  I  ran  by  blm  without  ipealililg, 

like  adasli  of  light. 
They  call  nio  crnal-liaartad,  but  I  care 

nolivhanhcysay. 
For  I'm  to  be  Quacn  o^  tha  May,  motller, 

I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  iit.j. 
They  say  he's  dying  all  tor  love,  bat 
They  sayblelieBrtlsbreBkiiiBimotliar, 
Tbece'a  many  a  bolder  lad  'ill  noo  me 

And  I'm  to   bs  Queen  o'  tlio  May, 
motlH!!  VmloDeQueeao'lbaM^. 


NEW  YEAR'S  EVE. 


27 


little  Effie  shall  go  with  me  to-morxow 

to  Uie  green, 
And  you'll  be  there,  too,  mother,  to  Bee 

me  made  the  Queen : 
For  the  shepherd  lads  on  every  side  "ill 

come  from  far  away, 
And  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'the  May,mother, 

Vm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 

The  honeysuckle  round  the  porch  has 

wov'n  its  wavy  bowers, 
And  by  the  meadow-trenches  blow  the 

faint  sweet  cuckoo-flowers  ; 
And  the  wild  marsh-marigold  shines 

like  fire  in  swamps  and  hollows 

AncTl'm  tobe  Queen  o*  the  May,mother, 
I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 

The  night-winds  come  and  go,  mother, 

upon  the  meadow  grass  ; 
And  the  happy  stars  above  them  seem 

to  brighten  as  they  pass, 
There  will  not  be  ft  drop  of  rain  the 

whole  of  the  hvelong  day. 
AndFm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother, 

I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  tueiviay. 

All  the  valley,  mother,  'ill  be  treak  and 

green  ana  still, 
And  the  cowslip  and  the  crowfoot  are 

over  all  the  hUl, 
And  the  rivulet  in  the  flowery  dale  'ill 

merrily  glance  and  play, 
For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,motber, 

I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 

So  you  must  wake  and  call  me  early, 

call  me  early,  mother  dear, 
To-morrow  'ill  be  the  happiest  time  of 

all  the  glad  New-year  : 
To-morrow  'ill  be  of  all  the  year  the 

maddest  merriest  day, 
For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o*  the  May , mother, 

I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 


/ 


NEW-YEAR'S    EVE. 

If  you're  waking  call  me  early,  call  me 

early,  mother  dear. 
For  I  would  see  the  sun  rise  upon  the 

glad  New-year. 
It  is  the  last  New-year  that  I  shall  ever 

see. 
Then  you  may  lay  me  low  i'  the  mould 

and  iMuk  no  more  of  me. 

To-night  I  saw  the  sun  set :  he  set  and 

left  behind 
Tho  good  old  year,  the  dear  old  time, 

and  all  my  peace  of  miud  ; 
And  the  New-year's  coming  up,mother, 

but  1  shall  never  see 
Tbh  blossom  on  the  blackthorn,  the 

les^  upon  the  tree. 

Last  May  we  made  a  crown  of  flowers  ; 

wo  had  a  merrv  day  ; 
Beneath  the  hawthorn  on  the  green 

tbey  made  me  Oneen  of  May : 
And  we  danced  shout  tho  may-pole 

Mad  in  the  bazel  copae, 


I 


Till  Charles'c  Wain  came  out  above  the 
tall  white  chimney  tops. 

There's  not  a  flower  on  all  the  hills  : 

the  frost  is  on  the  pane  : 
I  only  wish  to  live  till  the  snowdrops 

come  again  : 
I  wish  the  snow  would  melt  and  the 

sun  come  out  on  high  : 
I  long  to  see  a  flower  so  before  the  day 

Idle. 

The  building  rook  'ill  caw  from  the 

windy  tall  elm-tree, 
And  the  tufted  plover  pipe  along  the 

fallow  lea. 
And  the  swallow  'ill  come  back  again 

with  summer  o'er  the  wave. 
But  I  shall  lie  alone,  mother,  within 

the  mouldering  grave. 

Upon  the  chancel-casement,  and  ni)on 

that  grave  of  mine. 
In  the  early  early  morning  the  summer 

sun  'ill  shine. 
Before  the  red  cock  crows  from  the 

farm  upon  the  hill. 
When  you    are  waim-asleep,  mother, 

and  all  the  world  is  still. 

When  the  flowers  come  again,  mother, 

beneath  the  waning  light. 
You'll  never  see  me  more  in  the  long 

gray  fields  at  night : 
When  from  the  dry   dark   wold  the 

summer  airs  blow  cool 
On  the  oat-grass  and  the  sword-grass, 

and  the  bulrush  in  the  pool. 

You'll    bury    me,   my    mother,   just 

beneath  the  hawthorn  shade, 
And  you'll  come  sometimes  and  see  me 

where  I  am  lowly  laid. 
I  shall  not  forget  you,  mother,  I  shall 

hear  you  when  you  pass, 
With  your  feet  above  my  head  in  the 

long  and  pleasant  grass. 

I  have  been  wild  and  wayward,  but 

you'll  forgive  me  now  ; 
You'll  kiss  me,  my  own  mother,  and 

forgive  me  ere  I  go  ; 
Nay,  nay,  you  must  not  weep,  nor  let 

your  grief  be  wild. 
You  should  not  fret  for  me,  mother, 

you  have  another  child. 

If  I  can  I'll  come  again,  mother,  from 

out  my  resting-place  ; 
Tho'  you'll  not  see  me,  mother,  I  shall 

look  upon  your  face  ; 
Tho'  I   cannot  speak  a  word,  I  shall 

harkeii  what  you  say, 
And  be  often,  often  with  you  when 

you  think  I'm  far  away. 

Good-night,  good-night,  when   I  have 

said  gooctnight  for  ever  more. 
And  you  see  me  carried  out  from  the 

threshold  of  tho  door  ; 
Don'tletEfllecomo  to  ^ee  xnto  WXILtk^ 

grave  be  gTOwina  g;reeTv  \ 
jShe'll  be  a  better  cM\d  V>  "S^^  ^'•^B^Dl 

ever  I  have  been. 


Bhe'll  flncl  mj  gardi 

flboll  never  enrdi 
Bot  teU  her.wEon 


CONCLUSION. 
is  upon  the 


doivtutil  tliebui 
iiotUer  -.  call    mo 


61  od  Na«-yeat 
■  you' '-' 

■  early, 


'akiDg,  call  jjie.aaU  u 


CONCLUSION. 


yel  aUvB  I  am  : 
And  in  the  ticliisallt 

Hov  sadtv.  I  leniembi 

loB  oftlifl  year  1 
Ttt  lUelwfore  flie  eno 


ic  young  larali'B  voice 

tho  land  about,  and 
a  tbnt  blow, 
ia  (laath  tbn"  lilo  to 


:lergjm!iD, 


nd  that  good  man,  the 

haa  lold  me  words  of  pi 
bleseinaB  ou  hte  1tln<]ly  voice  and  aa 

MiHirverhalrl 

"  ■  ■   wings  on  htB  wholo  life  long, 

BBiniisoiible  kindly  heart  and  on 
ia  BlVver  head  ! 

3uaand  times  I  Meet  liim,  aa  he 
□elt  Ijeaido  my  t>ed- 
s  tanaht  me  all  tlie  mercy,  for  ha 

iboWdmenlltlieeiii. 
ow,  tho'  my  lamp  waa  lighted  late, 
tiiero'B  One  ■■■"' '—  —  '■■  ■ 


that  died  for  Die. 


All  In  the  wild  Marcb-mornlng  I  heai4 

the  aiigeLa  call. 
It  WAS  wbeii  the  moon  was  setting,  anS 

the  dark  was  over  nil; 
The  trees  began  lo  oiilcner,  and  Qia 

wlad  began  to  raii. 
And  in   the    wild   Marcb^iuoming  I 

hoBtdlhemcallmyaool, 
For  lyliiE  broad  awalio  I  tliougb  t  oC  you 
I  saw  you  sitting  in  1^  house,  and  I 

With  all  my  Mrongth  I  pr 

andsnltelt  reKign'd 

And  u:j  Uie  valley  ivmi 

1  thou^iitthat  it  waa  fanoy,  and  I  liB- 

Aud  then  did  soniethlilg  speak  lo  ma 

—I  linotrnot  what  was  said  ; 
For  great  delight  and  sliudderiug  took 

hold  ot  Blf my  mind. 
And  up   the  valley  i-oine   uraln  the 

musie  on  The  wind. 
But  von  were  sleeping  and  I  snld. "  It'i 

not  tor  llieni :  it's  mine." 
And  if  It  Foinee  three  times,  lUioaglit, 


I 


-eU  of 


i 


Itliinkmyllmaisnear.  Ilm 
^Bsed  musio  went  (hat  way  n 
r  myael/,'indo&,'  I  rare  not  it 


CUORIC 

And  Uisre  to  w^t  a  little  while  Utl  iroa 

KDd  £me  i»>nie— 
To  lie  TiUihi  the  ligbt  at  Ood,  u  I  lie 

upon  Tout  breut— 
And  tlis  wicked  ceiH  from  ttonbllog, 

and  llie  wear;  are  at  r«et. 

THE  L0T0S-EATER3. 

"  Cohbaog  1  ha  laid,  and  pointed  ta- 

"TliiH   mounting 'wave  will  loU  na 

Bhoreward  eoon." 
In  tbe  afternoon  tliey  came  snlo  a  land, 
In  which  It  «aenied  alwaji  attemuou. 
AllrouiidthecoBitthelaiignldalidid   i 

Breathing'  like  one  that  halh  a  wear;  I 

Foll-faeed  abore  the  Tallef  Blood  the 

And  Uke  a  downward  smoke,  the  ilen 

AloDR  the  clilT  lo  tall  and  paniis  an<i 
faUdidieom. 

some  like  a  down- 
of  thlnneat  lawn, 


waidmioke. 
Blow-dropptng  Tell 

And  tome  thro'  waTeriog  lights  and 

■hadom  broke, 
BoUIr ' 


a  alumbtona  sheet  of  foam 


woven  eopse. 
charmed  sanj 
le  red  West ;  thro' 


Ihey  saw  the  gleaming  ilTer  seaward 

PiDin  the  inner  laud :  far  off,  three 

Three  aUent  iilniiaeles  of  aged  snow. 
Stood  sonset-flash'd ;  and,  dew'd  with 

sbowerr  drops, 
Up^omb  the  BhadowT  pine  abore  the 

llnger'd  tow  adown 

. ._.    ..jo'niouiitalneleflB 

the  dale 
Waa  seen  far  Inland,  and  the  yellow 

Botder'd  with  pahn,  and  many  a  wind- 

iDg  Talo 
And  meadow,  tat  with  slender  galln- 

gale; 

A  luid  where  oil  things  always  seem'd 

And  ronnd  aboat  tbe  keel  wlthta«eB 

DariE  faces  pale  sgainat  that  may 

Tba  mild-eyed  melandioly  Lotoi-eat- 

Bnimhe*  they  bore  of  that  enchanted 

LadAnwiui  flower  and  fmlt,  whereof 

theynTO 
Td  each,  but  whoio  did  receive  of  them, 

Ihr Caraw^ did  «aam  U^  moarn  tatd 


On  alien   shon 


and  If  hlB  fellow 
aa  voleoa  from  the 
le  Bflem-d  yet  all 
.  ears  his  beating 
L  apon  the  yallow 


Of  eiili,  and  wife,  and  alava :  but 
Most  weary  seem'd  Iha  aea,  weary  the 
Weary  the  wandering  flelda  of  barren 
Then  some  one  said,  "  We  will  retum 
And  all  at  once  Ihay  Bang,  "  Our  Island 


Is  far 


e  wUIm 


cHOKic  soxa. 

TsEBE  IB  Bweet  muBJc  here  that  softer 

falls 
Than  petals  from  blown  roses  on  the 

OrSgbt^Gws  on  still  waters  between 

wills 
Of  shadowy  granite,   In   a  gleaming 

MneloUiaf.  gentler  on  tha  spirit  Ues, 

Than  tlr'd  eyelids  upon  Cii'd  eyes  i 

" — '-  •*— •  brings  Bi — •  -' —  -■ 


.e  blissful  skies, 
be  mOBB  tbe  Ivies  cr 


Why  are  we  welgb'd  upon  with  heavi. 
And  utterly  consumed  with  sharp  dis- 
Whlle  all  things  else  have  reBtfrom 


And  make' perpetual  moan, 

Still   from    one    sorrow    lo  anolher 

thrown; 
Not  ever  fold  oar  wings, 
And  caafle  from  wandaringfl. 
Nor  steep  our  biowsin  slumber's  holy 

balm; 
Nor  barken  what  the  lni>erBDltUa\it«p, 
"IlerelBno  Joy  bntoaliov' 
Why  should  we  only  tol\,  tbe  lOOt  SIA 
crown  of  tbinp? 


V 


CHORIC  SONG. 


The  (oldad  lenf  Is  woo 


Nighbly  den-led;  ai'id 
Palla.  and  floaM  Btlowi 


Lol  I 


nitJi  «■ 


.  _Jl-Juioed   -,,-, „    -.- 

mellow. 
DiopB  In  a  Bilent  antnmn  night. 
All  lU  allotted  leiiutli  of  duya, 
The  Dowor  rlpeiia  fii  Its  place, 
BIpens  and  f  udM,  aiid  falls,  and  bath 

RulrioolBd  in  the  fruitful  roll. 

Hateful  is  the  dsik-blno  ek;. 


Fast. 


Let  u] 


a  yonder  SI 


jid  ibelr  warm  tean  :  bat  all  hatb 

suSer'debsjiKe, 
^r  surelv  now  oar  honsehold  henrtlia 


IE  yellon 
uier  light, 


lEing 


Before  them  of  the 
And  our  great  deeds. 


on  yea 


halt-toTgotI 
Ib  there  ca'nfuaion  in  the  liltia  iaie? 
Let  what  Is  brukeii  su  remain. 
ThB  Gods  are  liHrd  In  rotondle; 

■Tis  hard  to  uptth-  nnlcr  i^is<-p  nsraln 

TroQhIo 

3jDug  labor  u 


:e  teak  to  heorla  w« 


It  with  m. 


little  while  our  lips  are  du 
ine.  What  t»  It  Uial  will  ii 

and  parcels  of  the  dieadful 
What  pleasme  cai 


0  war  with  qtII  ?    Is  Chora  any  pence 
II   ever    climbing   up   tha   climbing 

All  thlngsliaie  rest,  and  tlpeii  toward 

In  silence  \  lipen,  tall  and  cease  ; 
"■  1  US  long  reBior  death,  dark  deatli, 
31  dreamful  ease. 

Eowflweet  It  vere,  hearing  tbe  down- 

..-Jiiialf-BliutByes  ever  1o  seem 
Falling  uleep  in  a  half  dr 
"■-  '-Bam  and  dream,  ■" 

_jr  light. 
Which  wiM  not  leave  the  myrrh-baBh 

on  the  height ; 
To  hear  each nthcr'nnblaper'd speech; 
Sating  tJie  Lotos  day  by  day. 
To  watch  the  crbiping  rlpplos  on  tbe 

jid  tender  carving  lines  of  oreainy 

To  iond  our  heart"  and  spirits  wholly 
ON)  tbe  Influence  of  mlld-mlndedmelan. 
eboly ; 


blowing  lowlj) 
With  Imlf-drnpt  eyelids  Btlll, 
Bcnealb  a  besven  dailt  aud  bo 
To  WBlob  Uio  long  bright  rlvt 

H!b  wat*etafrom  Uia  purple blU  — 
Tf  btar  Iba  dewy  acboea  calling 
From   oavo  to  cove  tliro'  the  thlck- 

twlnedviiie  — 
To  tialidi  the   emciald-coloT'd  WHtei 

TIlio'  manyawov'n  acantbus-wrealb 

diTlnel 
Only  to  bear  and  see  l^e  fi 

tieneath  the  plue. 

ooms  in 

iioios  blows  by  every  winding 

All  day  the  wind  bieatbes  low  w 


) 


A  DREAM  OF  FAIR  WOMEN. 


at 


On  the  hnis  like  Gods  together,  care- 
less of  msukind. 
For  they  lie  beside  their  iiectar,  and 

the  bolts  are  hurl'd 
Far  below  them  in  the  vaUeys,  and  the 

clouds  are  lightly  curPd 
Round  their  golden  houses,  girdled 

with  the  gleaming  world: 
Where  they  smile  in  secret,  looking 

over  wasted  lands. 
Blight  and  f andne,  plague  and  earth- 
quake, roaring   deeps  and  fiery 

sands, 
Clan^ug  fights,  and  flaming  towns,  and 

sinking  ships,  and  praying  hands. 
But  they  smile,  thev  find  a  music  cen- 
tred in  a  doleful  song 
Steaming  up,  a  lamentation  and  an 

ancient  tale  of  wrong. 
Like  a  tale  of  little  meaning  tho*  the 

words  are  strong, 
Chanted  from  an  ill-used  race  of  men 

that  cleave  the  soil, 
Sow  the  seed,  and  reap  the  harvest 

with  enduring  toil, 
Storine  yearly  little    dues  of  wheat, 

ana  wine  and  oil; 
Till  they  perish  and  they  suffer— some 

'tis  whisper'd— down  in  hell 
Suffer  endless  anguish,  others  in  Ely- 

sian  valleys  dwell. 
Besting  weary  limbs  at  last  on  beds  of 

asphodel. 
Surely,  surely,  slumber  is  more  sweet 

than  toil,  the  shore 
Than  labor   in  the   deep  mid-ocean, 

wind  and  wave  ami  oar; 
O  reit  ye,  brother  mariners,  we  will 

not  wander  more. 


A  DREAM  O?  FAIR  WOMEN. 

I  HEAD,  before  my  eyelids  dropt  their 
shadCf 
"  The  Legend  qf  Good  Women,**  long 
ago 
Sung  by  the  morning  star  of  song,  who 
made 
His  music  heard  below ; 

Dan  Chaucer,  the  first  warbler,  whose 
sweet  breath 
Preluded   those  melodious    bursts, 
that  fill 
The  spacious  times  of  great  Elizabeth 
Wiui  sounds  that  echo  still. 

And,  for  a  while,  the  knowledge  of  hia 
arc 
Held  me  above  the  subject,  as  strong 
sales 
Hold  swollen  clouds  from  raining,  tho' 
my  heart. 
Brimful  of  those  wild  tales, 

Charged  both  mine  eyes  with  tears.  In 
every  land 
I  saw,  wherever  light  illumineth. 
Beanly  and  anguish  walking  hand  in 
habd 
XIm  ^UfWJXwaidMlcpe  to  death. 


I 


Those  far-renowned  brides  of  ancient 
song 
Peopled  the  hollow  dark,  like  burn- 
ing stars. 
And  I  neard  sounds  of  insult,  shame^ 
and  wrong, 
And  trumpets  blown  for  wars ; 

And    clattering  flints  battei-'d  with 
clanging  hoofs: 
And  I  saw  crowds  in  columned  sanc- 
tuaries ; 
And  forms  that  pass'd  at  windows  and 
on  roofs 
Of  marble  palaces ; 

Corpses  across  the  threshold ;  heroes 
tall 

Dislodging  pinnacle  and  parapet 
Upon  the  tortoise  creeping  to  the  wall; 

Lances  in  ambush  set ; 

And  high  shrine-doors  burst  thro'  with 
heated  blasts 
That    run    before    the    fluttering 
tongues  of  fire ; 
White   surf  wind-Bcatter*d   over  sails 
and  masts, 
And  ever  climbing  higher  ; 

Squadrons   and  squares   of    men   in 
brazen  platos ; 
ScafTulds,  still  sueetsof  water,  divers 
woes. 
Ranges  of  glinunering  vaults  with  iron 
grates, 
And  hush'd  seraglios. 

So  shai>e  chased  shape  as  swift  as, 
when  to  land 
Bluster  the  winds  and  tides  the  self- 
same way, 
Crisp  foam-flakes  soud  along  the  level 
sand, 
Tom  from  the  fringe  of  spray. 

I  started  once,  or  seem'd  to  start  in 
pain. 
Resolved  on  noble  things,  and  strove 
to  speak, 
As  when  i  great  thought  strikes  along 
the  bram. 
And  flushes  all  tho  cheek. 

And  once  my  arm  was  lifted  to  hew 
down 
A  cavSlier  from  oflF  his  saddle-bow. 
That  bore   a  lady  from   a  leaguer'd 
town; 
And  then,  I  know  not  how, 

All  those  sharp  fancies,  by  down-laps- 
ing thought 
Stream'd  onward,  lost  their  edges, 
and «    .  creep 
Roird     on     each     o'her,     rounded, 
smooth'd.  and  brought 
Into  iiie  gulf 3  of  sleep. 

At  last  methought  that  I  had  wander'd 
far 

In  an  old  wood:  f resh-wash'd  in  cool- 
est dew. 

The  maiden  splendors  of  l\iQ  -moxc&au^  \ 
star 
Shook  in  the  stediaatbVod* 


\ 


A  DREAM  OF 
(,lmtrefl-bal«Hdidatt>op  Aud 

Dpaii  the  duakr  biuahwood  under- 
iicsth 
rbeU  broful  Gurrfid  branchcBf  flcilDed 
with  clearer 


FAIR  WOMEN. 

No  Dmrrel,  lovecelgn  lojy  :  in  Jait 
Mfaelf  for  sucli  a  tiice  bod  boldly 
D-ppeal'd 


New  It 


muai 


heatb. 
morn  had  died,  her  Joui'- 


I  In  the  dnmb 


Ab  that  Hide  forest.  Growths  of  jna- 
Tbelr  hUBilJ  araiB  festoouing  tcee  to 

AudaL  ihi!  loot  lUra'luab  green  gnuiea 
The  red  Biiomona. 

I  knew  the  flowera,  I  kuow  Iho  loaroa, 
Tbo  teactul  ellmmet  of  tlia  languid 

On  (liDCe  long,  rank,  dork  wood-volkB 


Leading  froi 
Tbe  amoll  of 


I   In  the 


Tbrill'd  thro'  mine  eara  In  that  ua- 
liliterul  i^llme, 
"  Paas  (rooly  thro' :  the  wood  Is  all 

rndltLeeiidoftlmo." 
At  Isnelh  I  saw  a  Uay  within  call. 

Stiller  Uiau  chisell'd  uorblo,  sUnd- 
1ns  tliere : 
A  danghler  of  the  jiods.  divinely  tall, 

And  most  divluvtyfai,'. 
Ear  lorellnees  wltb  shame  and  with 


The  star-like  mirrowa  of  Ininiottnl  cjos, 

Spoke  slovty  iit  bet  plat^e. 
*^1  hadiETeat  Lioauty:  ask  thou  natnij 

Mo  one  caik  be  more  wise  thnn  dcs- 
Uan;  drew  swords  and  died.  Wheie'or 


I 


le  that  buxhI  I" 


rntQl  k 


a  blasted 


ButBhe,  with  sick  mA  b 

To  her  fall  height  ben 
"My  youtli."  Bbo  s^d. 

This  wamaii  •sm  tbe  oauae. 
1  woB  cut  oif  from  hope  In  that  Bad 

WbShy^t  to  iiama  my  splitt  loathes 
ipouhlsfaee; 


blinded  with  m 


n>B  to  apeak :  my  Tolee  «aa 
thick  with  Bbjha 

ill  ailream.    Siiuly  I  oonld  des«iT 
Item   black-bearded  Idngv  with 


lleku'd  as  they  lay 


The  crowds,  the  temc 

andlheaboro: 

The  blight  dealli  quiTsr' 


Whereto  the  other  with  Q  downward 

"  I   wDDld  the  white  cold  hoav- 
nlungine  foam, 
IVhirl'd  by  the  wind,  had  ruUM  aia 
deep  lielow. 
Then  when  I  loft  my  home." 
ner  slow  full  words  sank  thro'  tha 
Aa  thnnder-diops  fall  on  a  aleeplnf 
Sndden   I  lieard  a  lolce  that  oried, 

I  turning  saw,  throned  on  a  H< 


roll'd  ! 

lueeu,  with   Bwartby   dieelu  Uidifl 
bold  black  eyes.  ■ 


in  by  change,  ami  tol  I 


A  DREAM  OF  FAIR  WOMEN. 


83 


**  Nay— yet  it  chafes  me  that  I  could 
not  bend 
One  will ;  nor  tame  and  tutor  with 
mine  eye 
iThat  dull  cold-blooded  Caesar.    Pry- 
thee,  friend, 
Where  is  Mark  Antony  ? 

**  The  man,  my  lover,  with  whom  I  rode 
sublime 
On  fortune's  neck ;  we  sat  as  God  by 
God: 
The  Nilus  would  have  risen  before  his 
time 
And  flooded  at  our  nod. 

"  We  drank  the  Libyan  Sun  to  sleep, 
and  lit 
Lamps   which  outbum'd   Canopus. 
O  my  life 
In  Egypt  r  O  the  dalliance  and  the  wit, 
The  natiery  and  the  strife, 

And  the  wild  kiss,  when  fresh  from 
war's  alarms. 

My  Hercules,  my  Roman  Antony, 
My  mailed  Bacchus  leapt  into  my  aims. 

Contented  there  to  die  I 

And  there  he  died :  and  when  I  heard 
mv  name 
Sigh'd  forth  with  life  I  would  not 
brook  my  fear 
Of  the  other :  with  a  worm  I  balk*d 
his  fame. 
What  else  was  left?  look  here  I  ** 

(With  that  she  tore  her  robe  apart,  and 
half 
The  polish'd  argent  of  her  breast  to 
sight 
Laid  bare.    Thereto  she  pointed  with 
a  laugh. 
Showing  the  aspick*s  bite.) 

^1  died  a  Queen.    The  Roman  soli^ier 
found 
Me  lying  dead,  my  crown  about  my 
brows, 
A  name  for  ever !— lying  robed  and 
crown'd. 
Worthy  a  Roman  spouse.' 

Her  warbling  voice,  a  lyre  of  widest 
range 
Struck  Dy  all  passion,  did  fall  down 
and  glance 
From  tone  to  tone,  and  glided  thro*  all 
change 
Of  liveliest  utterance. 

When  she  made  i>ause  I  knew  not  for 
delight ; 
Because  with  sudden  motion  from 
the  around 
She  raised  her  piercing  orbs,  and  fill'd 
with  light 
The  interval  of  sound. 

Btill  with  their  fires  Love  tipt  his  keen- 
est darts: 
As  once  they  drew  into  two  burning 
rings 


•f 


All  beams  of  Love,  melting  the  mighty 
hearts 
Of  captains  and  of  kings. 

Slowly  my  sense  undazzled.    Then  I 
lieard 
A  noise  of  some  one  coming  thro*  the 
lawn. 
And  singing  clearer  than  the  crested 
bird. 
That  claps  his  wings  at  dawn. 

"  The  torrent  brooks  of  hallow*d  Israel 
Fi-om  craggy  hollows  pouring,  lato 
and  soon, 
Sound  all  nisht  long,  in  falling  t^o' 
the  dell. 
Far-heard  beneath  the  moon. 

'*  The  balmy  moon  of  blessed  Israel 
Floods  all  the  deep-blue  gloom  with 
beams  divine : 
All  night  the  splintered  crags  that  wall 
the  dell 
With  spires  of  silver  shine.** 

As  one  that  mnseth  where  broad  sun- 
shine laves 
The  lawn  by  some  cathedral,  thro* 
the  door 
Hearing  the  holy  organ  rolling  waves 
Of  sound  on  roof  and  floor 

Within,  and  anthem  sung,  is  charm*d 
and  tied 
To  where  he  stands,  —  so  stood  I, 
when  that  flow 
Of  music  left  the  lips  of  her  that  died 
To  save  her  father's  vow  ; 

The  daughter  of  the  warrior  Gileadite. 
A  maiden  pure ;  as  when  she  went 

along 
From  Mizpeh's   tower*d  gate  with 
welcome  light. 
With  timbrel  and  with  song. 

My  words  leapt  forth  :  "  Heaven  heads 
the  count  of  crimes 
With  that  wild  oath.'*    She  render'd 
answer  high : 
"  Not  so,  nor  once  alone  :  a  thousand 
times 
I  would  be  bom  and  die. 

**  Single  I  grew,  like  some  green  plant, 
whoso  root 
Creeps  to  the  garden  water-pipes  be- 
neath, 

Feeding  the  flower ;  but  ere  my  flower 
to  fruit 

Changed,  I  was  ripe  for  death. 

"  My  Crod,  my  land,  my  father— thesa 

did  move 
.  Me  from  my  bliss  of  life,  that  Naturo 

gave, 
Lower'd  softly  with  a  threefold  cord  of 

love 
Down  to  a  silent  grave. 

"  And  I  went    mourning,  'No  faJT 
Hebrew  boy 


"  Tho  light  whitB  cloud  b» 
We  lieanl  tlia  llnii  roar 


"  ■WlBii  lis  111 

llie  sHv, 

Strengtli  cm 


.  night  vit1illyin~ 
leverlaitlnaliills. 


u  roll'd  Inio 


II,  hip  ni 


1  thlgti, 


On  AruDii  unto  MInnelh."    Here  bsi 

Glow'd,  lu  I  look'd  at  her. 
She  lock'd  her  Ilpa :  Bhe  loft  me  where 
Lo  Ood,"  Ghe  snug,  nud  iiaat 
Thrlddiiig  the  sombio  boakagc  of  the 

Towai'il  tha  moniiiig-Btnr. 
LoBlng  her  carol  I  stood  pciisItcIv. 

'■•  — e  that  [ram  a  eosamuiit  leans 

Idnlgbt  bells  ccaie  ringing 


Mn  head. 


Indlheoldyoa 


"Aloa!^ 


n  lowTolre,  full  of  tare, 


c  Kosamoitd,  vhom  n 


To  wlioin  th 

EgypOnn 

:  "  O.  jou 

The  dagger  thro'  her  aide 

^Toru  hroiLdtfu'd  ou  tho  borderH  c 
dark, 
Ere  I  saw  ber,  who  planp'd  ii' 

HeriouTder'drathflr'B  head,  or  Joan  ot 

AllgHtotaildeiii 

Other,  who  knewl 

quiah  Dealli, 


her  king, 
Drew  forth  the  polioi 


lovliigup,  than  Itrom  I 

tell  o-or 

i!id   nud  sight.    'With  II 


But  no  two  dreama  n 
Is  when  a  soul  laino 

Desirinywhtt' 
Y^r^i^^Mlj^ 


ack  of  dr«anii  m 

re  tike. 

Its,  which  hatb  I 
.lugled  with  psit  I 
ineTerbeeiprasC  I 
tho'  cuU'd   vritH  I 


M  A  K  0  A  H  E  T. 
O  BWEKT  palp  Margaret, 

Fh  "ITt  your  e"a  wfth  tMrful  p , 

.llia  nil lou  light  on  a  talllue  «huwerr 
nio  lent  you,  lore  jcut  ii«irtulda 
Of  paualvo  thought  aud  aapdut  pi 


TBE  DEATH  OP 

loly  Bireet  and  trail 

From  the  weuvsnl-wliidtog  II<>(m1, 
From  the  evening-lighted  woal, 
Fnm  all  tbiusi  oulwanl  you  bare 

That  dimples  joa 


Kncirclea  all  the 

OI  dolntr  boitow  nitlioi 


iiispareiic  i^lieeki 
■i-i-  nnil  (eedetli 
illght 


Moviug  tbro'  4  Seecy  ulftbt. 
Ton  love,  lemalnliig  peacefully, 


Tour  Bplrit  iB  the  cBJmed  eea 
Laidliy  tlie  tumult  o(  tie  flght 

Touar*  tie  evening  Blar-alwajr 
Bemalnliig  tMtwixt  dark  and  bright  I 

Lnll'd  ecLoes  oI  lalKirlooi  du 
Come  to  TOD,  gleanu  of  ntauaw  ligh 
Float  b;  jou  tut  th^  Tetgeot  idglit. 

Wbat  can  It  natter,  Margaret, 
What  wmgt  below  the  waoiug  Btan 

The  llonJiwrt,  Plantamiiet, 
Sang  laakloB  thro'  hii  piiiiou  bars? 
Exquisite  Margaret,  frho  can  tell 

nie  la*t  wild  Uiought  of  Chfttelet, 
Jiut  ere  the  falling  axe  m  pari 
The  burning  braiji  tram  tbe  (mi 

Even  ill  her  Bight  he  loved  HO  veil  ? 


d  lew  aeriallj  bine. 


Bat  ever  trrmbll 
Ofdaiiity-woful 


It  bine, 
ling  tbro' 


Hi*  BTCliilig  11: 

Movli 


Id  lalnt.  rainy  tlghlHi 


n  nn  your  cheeli : 


TBE  Or.D  YEAR. 

Look  doirn,  and  let  yotiT  bine  < 
Upon  me  Ihro'  the  Jaomliie-IeaTei 
THE  BLACKBIRD. 
O  BLACKBiBD  1  sliig  me  Bometlilng 
WtillQ  M  the  nelgbbois  Bhoot  thee 
I  keup  emooth  plats  of  fruitful 
trarble,  eat  and 


TheeB 


dweU. 
HlleiB 


ind  the  t 


leall 


riiiige  of  la 
The    unn'ettod    black-haarts    ripen 

All  tblue,  agBlnit  the  garOeii  nail. 

Yet,  tho-  1  spared  thee  all  the  epri 
-ifiy  sole  ll«LlgLt  la.  Sitting  etill, 
With  that  cold  dagger  ot  Uir  bill 

To  fret  the  8umtusr>u"«iliig. 

A  golden  bill  !  the  silver  tongue, 
Cold  February  loved,  is  diy  : 

"'— the  melody 

tauions  once,  when 


Plenty  --. 
That  made 

And  In  the  sultry  garden-sqnarea, 
^ow  tby  flute-uoteA  ore  chajiged  to 

I  hear  thea  not  at  all,  or  boam 
Ab  when  a  hawker  hawks  bU  wares. 
Take  warning !  ha  that  will  not  iing 
Wlilk  you  9UU  prospers  In  the  blue. 
Shall  alng  for  want,  ere  leaves  are 

Canght  lit  the  frozen  palms  of  Spring. 
THE  DEATH  OF  THE  OLD  TEAK. 
Poll  knee-deep  Ues  the  uinli 
And   the  winier   wind*   are   wearily 

Shlnji: 
he  cbureh-bell  Bsd  and  alow. 
And  tread  softly  and  speak  low 
For  the  old  year  lies  n-dylng. 
Old  year,  you  must  not  A&  ; 
You  same  to  us  so  readily. 
You  lived  with  ue  eo  eleiufUy, 
Old  yeuv  you  shall  not  die. 
He  lleth  atid  :  ha  doth  not  move  I 
3t  see  the  dawn  o[  day. 

He  gave  me  a  friend,  and  a  true  trua 
And  the^ew-year  will  tahe'em  away. 


Solo 


rou  hav 


with  at 


He  froth'il  Ms  bumpers  to  thebrii 
A  folllar  vear  we  ahall  nut  see. 
But  tho'  hla  eyen  are  waslug  dim. 
And  tbo'  hlB  foes  apeak  ill  oE  V^ 
ile  was  a  friend  to  me. 
Old  year,  you  abAll  uot  d^  ■, 


V 


■v 


Efwaa  full  of  Joke  ai 
Bat  Bll  his  merry  qui 
■Xo  nee  lilm  die,  acrasi 

HiB  son  and  lieii  datli , 

But  lie' 11  be  dead  before. 

Everj  one  for  bia  owu. 

The  night  1b  BUrry  and  cold,  mj 

And  the  New-yeai  blithe  and  bold, 
my  friend, 

Bow  bard  he  breathsB  1  oier  the  snow 
I  bnatd  just  HOW  Uxt  ctowlug  eoek. 
The  Bhadovra  Iticker  to  suid  lin  ; 
The  vricket  cblri»:    lite  light  burns 

'Tls  nearly  twelve  o'clock. 

Shake  hands,  before  jou  die. 

Old  Yflar,  we'll  dearly  rue  for  yon : 

What  is  it  we  fan  do  (or  you  ? 

Speak  o»l  before  j-ou  die. 
HiB  face  Ih  groninB  Bbani  and  thin. 
Alaidi !  our  ttleuu  la  gone, 
Clote  up  bis  eysg :  lio  up  his  cMii ; 
Bteii  (nmi  Ihe  ivriiae,  anil  let  liiui  la 
That  standelh  there  alont, 

There's  s  tiew  foot  on  the  Soor,  my 


A  new  face  at  the  door, 

TO  J.  S. 

Toe  wind,  that  beats  the  mountain, 
bloWH 

More  HfUy  round  the  onen  wold. 
And  oenily  rames  the  world  Id  tliose 

T-hat  are  cast  in  gentle  mould. 
And  me  this  knowledRO  bolder  made, 

Or  else  I  Inul  not  dared  lo  flow 
In  thma  worda  Ujwanl  you,  and  invade 

Even  with  a  verse  jour  holy  woe. 
•Xlaatrance  Ihatlliospwaleon  on  moat, 

TUoxe  ilk  whose  laps  our  limbs  aiv 

GwlrivBHslove.    Somclhlnc  lo  love 
Helendsus  ;  but,  when  lov.i  w  grown 

FnUs  off,knd  lovals  le£t  alone. 
Tills  is  the  cnrse  of  time.   Alas! 

Ill  grtef  I  am  not  all  uiilcani'd  ; 
Once  Ibio'  mine  own  doors  Death  did 

He  wilt  not  smile — ^not  speak  to  me 
Onte  more.    Two  years  his  ubair  is 

Empty  before  nn.    That  was  he 
tPilhoui  whose  lifu  1  bad  nut  been. 


/.  .5. 

Tour  loss  is  rater:  lor  thl 
Koee  with  yon  thro'  a  111 

Of  heaven,  nor  bavina  wni 
Shot  on  the  sadden  Into 
knew  your  brother  :  bia  m 


1  honor  mnl  bis  living  worth  ; 

A  man  more  pure  and  Bold  ami  Just 

Was  never  boni  into  tie  eanh. 


;  have  not  look'd  upon  yi 


re  is  more  wise  Ihaii  I 


inlts  Uie  liiwaid' 


ueh  pleasun.  Let  hof  will 
o  weep  or  not  tu  wet 
r,  "  God'B  ordlnB.nPB 


lliat  talieB  away  a  noble  mint 
His  memory  lono  will  lire  nlon 

In  alt  our  beails,  as  mauinfn 
TliBi  broods  above  tlie  fallen  bl_, 

Auil  dwells  in  heaven  hUf  the  ulshW 


Talnsolace!  Memory  standing  ni 
.-,.  ,1 ..„„  „,„.  ....1  <„  her  l^.«, 

InQuth, 


ler  voice 
Dropt  oi 


Both  are  my  friouda,  ouil  iny  tl 
BloedeUi  for  bolh ;  yet  it  may  be 
'Wocils  weaker  (ban  your  grief  woulA 

Criefmore.    "Iworo  betloi  I  BboiiM 

AlUiouuh  rnvselfeould  almost 
The  place  (if  blni  tbat  sleeps 

Slepp  sweetly,  tender  heart,  Ii 
Sleep,  holy  spirll,  blessed  sc 


i 


I 


TO  J.  S. 


37 


It  is  tbe  lud  that  freemen  tUl, 
That  nlbQV^alted  yzeedom  choie, 
The  laud,  where  girt  with  friends  or 
foes 

A  mau  may  speak  the  thing  he  will ; 

A  land  of  settled  government, 
A  land  of  Just  and  old  renovm. 
Where   Freedom    broadens    slowly 
down 

From  precedent  to  precedent : 

Where  faction  seldom  gathers  head, 
Bat  by  degrees  to  f  uhiess  wroaght, 
The  strength  of  some  diffusive 
thought  [spread. 

Hath   time  and  space    to  work  and 

Should  banded  unions  persecute 
Opinion,  and  induce  a  time 
When  sinsle  thought  is  civil  crime, 

And  individual  freedom  mute ; 

Tho*  Power  should  make  from  land  to 
land 

The  name  of  Britain  trebly  great — 

Tho*  every  channel  of  the  State 
Should  almost  choke  with  golden  sand- 
Yet  waft  me  from  the  harbor-mouth. 

Wild  wind !   I  seek  a  warmer  sky. 

And  I  will  see  before  1  die 
The  palms  and  temples  of  the  South. 

Of  old  sat  Freedom  on  the  heights, 
Tiie  thunders  breaking  at  her  feet : 

Above  her  shook  the  starry  lights  : 
She  heard  the  torrents  meet. 

There  in  her  place  she  did  rejoice, 
Self-gatherd  in  her  prophet-mind. 

But  fragments  of  her  miztity  voice 
Game  rolling  on  the  wind. 

Then  stept  she  down  thro*  town  and 
field 

To  minffle  with  the  human  r»ce, 
And  part  oy  part  tameii  reveal'd 

The  fullness  of  her  face— 

Grave  mother  of  majestic  works, 
From  her  isle-altar  gazing  down. 

Who,  God-like,  grasps  tiie  tiiple  forks, 
And  King-like,  wears  the  crown  : 

Her  open  eyes  desire  the  truth. 

The  wisdom  of  a  thousand  years 
Is  in  them.    May  perpetual  youth 

Keep  dry  their  light  from  tears  ; 

That  her  fair  form   may  stand  and 
shine. 
Make  bright  our  days  and  light  our 

dreanvst 
Turning  to  scorn  with  lips  divine 
The  falsehood  of  extremes ! 


Love  thou  thy  land,  with  love  far- 
brought 
From  out  the  storied  Past,  and  used 
Within  the  Present,  but  transfused. 

lliro'  future  time  by  power  of  thought. 

True  love  tiim*d  round  on  fixed  poles. 
Love,  that  endures  not  sordid  ends. 
For  English  natures,  freemen,  friends 

Thy  brothers  and  immortai  soula. 


/ 


But  pamper  not  a  hastv  time. 
Nor  feed  with  crude  ImaginingB 
The  herd,  wild  hearts  uid  zeebl« 
wings, 

That  every  sophister  can  lime. 

Deliver  not  the  tasks  of  might 
To  weakness,  neither  hide  the  ray 
From  those,  not  blind,  who  wail  fox 
day, 

Tho'  Bitting  girt  with  doubtful  Ught. 

Make  knowledge  circle  with  the  winds; 
But  let  ber  herald,  Reverence,  fly 
Before  her  to  whatever  sky 

Bear  seed  of  men  and  growth  of  minds. 

Watch  what  main-currents  draw  tlie 
years  : 
Cut  Prejudice  aeainst  the  grain  : 
But  gentle  wonu  are  always  gain : 

Regard  the  weakness  of  thy  peers : 

Nor  toil  for  title,  place,  or  touch 
Of  pension,  neither  count  on  praise : 
It  erows  to  guerdon  after-days : 

Nor  deal  in  watch-words  over  much : 

Not  clinging  to  some  ancient  saw ; 
Not  master'd  by  some  modem  term  t 
Not  swift  nor  slow  to  clumge,  but 
firm  : 

And  in  its  season  bring  the  law ; 

That  from  Discussion's  lip  may  fall 
With  Life,  that,  working  strongly, 

binds — 
Set  in  all  lights  by  many  minds* 

To  close  the  interests  of  all. 

For  Nature  also,  cold  and  warm. 
And  moist  and  dry,  devising  long. 
Thro*  many  agents  making  strong, 

Matures  the  inmvidual  form. 

Meet  is  it  changes  should  control 
Our  being,  lest  we  rust  in  ease. 
We  all  aro  changed  by  still  decrees, 

All  but  the  basis  of  the  soul. 

So  let  the  change  which  comes  be  free 
To  ingroove  itself  with  that,  which 

flies. 
And  work,  a  joint  of  state,  that  plies 

Its  oflice,  moved  with  sympathy. 

A  saying,  hard  to  shape  in  act ; 
For  all  the  past  of  Time  reveals 
A  bridal  dawn  of  thunder-peals. 

Wherever  Thought  hath  weaded  Fact 

Ev'n  now  we  hear  with  inward  strife 
A  motion  toiling  in  the  gloom— 
The  Spirit  of  the  years  to  come 

Yearning  to  mix  himself  with  Life 

A  slow-deyelop*d  stren^h  awaits 
Completion  in  a  painful  school 
Phantoms  of  other  forms  of  rule, 

New  Majesties  of  mighty  States — 

The  warders  of  the  growing  hour,  ' 
But  vague  in  vapor,  hard  to  mark  ; 
And  round  them  sea  axid.Q\T  ^x«^«a^~ 

With  great  coutxiva\ice%  ol  Yo'vi^t. 


N 


OC  m&ny  cbanaee,  aptlv  joln'd, 

b  iKx&ed  Corlii  [tw  Hcoiul  wliole. 

ItogBni  Hmdalloii.  lest  Uib  bohI 
01  ULn^ord  [sue  the  rising  wluil  i 
A  wind  to  pnff  vour  iilol-flres. 

Aiul  luwr  I>uu[  luLea  on  Uio  heul ; 

ToBlmiiie  thu  boost  so  ntuii  uutUe, 
That  ««  aie  wiaei  lliaii  our  airea. 
ifa  yet,  if  Nature's  evil  Btur 


ronUn'dlnljlood; 


M  pBw  tbe  ItoulilHl  laud,  llLe 

less,  Uio'  doBH  of  FH"ti(in  bay, 
nulj  serve  Lis  liiixd  li>  deed  utid 

rtHlu,   U    knowledge    bring    the 

:     knowledge    talics   ilia     sword 
iwsj- 
WonM  love  (he  gleania  of  good  thai 

From  Bilber  sWe,  nor  veil  his  Pve«' 
And  if  some  dremlful  need  sliouid 

"Wuiild   itrihe,    aud  flnnly,   and  one 

To-morrow  vet  would  reap  lo-day. 
As  we  bexr  blosmmx  of  ihc  .lead  : 
Earn  well  the  thrifty  nioniha,  nor 

Bair  Hssle,  haU-alsler  to  Delay. 
THE    GOOSE. 


EPIC. 
And  feeding  high,  unit  livine  BoTL 
Urew  plumji  and  able-boded ; 


Bui  alii  thu  more  the  while  eoose  laid 

it  fllBck'd  aud  cackled  louder. 
It  elutter'd  here.  It  cbuekled  Uwra  ; 


le  held  a  roobo  upon  Ida 
Heullor'drhjmeBndr 
Here,  lake  tlie  gouae,  a 

It™™" 


1  ietp  joa 


-/ 


>y  (ho  leg, 

The  eooae  let  fall  aiioldon  egg 
Wfih  cackle  and  with  clatter. 

She  dropt  tbe  gooae,  and  cangbt  tbe 
And  rikii  to  tell  her  xipigUboi 
And  reEttd  from  her  1 


irsed  henell 


nio  Booso  Mew  tluB  way  nudllBW  that,    ■ 
And  lili'd  tbe  bouse  with  clamor. 

\t  head  and  heels  upon  Iho  floor 
hare  atrodea  alrnuger  to  tliBdoot, 


ok  the 


lep  yon  warm, 
wind  rang  from  park  and 

Ami  round  Ibe  Blllog  mmblod. 
Till  rU  lliu  Ubiea  danced  sg^n, 

And  bale  Ibe  ehirane: —•* 

The  glnai 


lumbied. 


The  blBM  V 
er  rnu  blev 
And  a  whirl v 


niii  hi 


in  all  aides  breaking  looae 
llcr  tiDusflhoKI  Hed  the  danger, 
Qudih  »be.  ■■  Tbe  Devtl  lake  the  gnose, 
And  God  foi-gel  tlie  atiaoger  I '' 

THE   EPIC. 
At  Franrls  Allen's  ou  tbe  Chrletmaa- 
Tho  rr'ma  of  forfeits  done— Iho  ^rla 
Bunenlli   the  saered   bush   and   poat 
poet  Everard 


10  pnrsun  Holm 
Hnll, 


or  dwliidWl  down  to  afrme 
'  old  niKFks  like  thle  i  UII  I, 
ting  el[-hta  that  day  upou  Uib 


MORTE  ly ARTHUR. 


39 


/ 


Wheruy  ilixee  times  slipping  from  the 

outer  edge. 
I  biuup*d  tEe  ice  into  three  several 

stars, 
Fell  in  a  doze ;  and  hulf -awake  I  heard 
The  parson  taking  wide  and  wider 

sweeps, 
Now  harping  on  the  church-commis- 
sioners. 
Now  hawkmg  at  Geology  and  schism : 
Until  I  woke,  and  found  him  settled 

down 
Upon  the  general  decay  of  faith 
Bight  thro'  the  world,  **  at  home  was 

Uttle  left, 
And  none  abroad:  there  was  no  an- 
chor, none. 
To  hold  oy."   Francis,  laughing,  clapt 

his  hand 
On  £verard*s  shoulder,  with,  "I  hold 

by  him." 
"And  I,"  quoth  Everard,  "  by  the  was- 
sail-bowl.** 
""Why yes,'*  I  said,  "we  knew  your 

gift  that  way 
At    college:  but  another  which  you 

had, 
I  mean  of  verse  (for  so  we  held  it 

then,) 
What  came  of  that  ?  "    **  You  know," 

said  Frank,  "he  burnt 
His  epic,  his  King  Arthur,  some  twelve 

books  "  — 
And  then  to  me  demanding  why  ?  "Oh, 

sir. 
He  thought  that  nothing  new  was  said, 

or  else 
Something  so  said  'twas   nothing  — 

that  a  truth 
Looks  freshest  in  the  fashion  of  the 

day: 
Qod  knows :  he  has  a  mint  of  reasons : 

ask. 
It  pleased  me  well  enough."    "Nay, 

nay,"  said  Hall, 
*<  Why  take  the  style  of  those  heroic 

times? 
For  nature  brings  not  back  the  Masto- 
don, 
Nor  we  those  times;  and  why  should 

any  man 
Remodel  models  ?  these  twelve  books 

of  mine 
Were  faint  Homeric  echoes,  nothing- 
worth. 
Mere  chaff  and  draff,  much  better 

burnt."    "But  I," 
Said  Francis,  "pick'd  the  eleventh 

from  this  hearth, 
And  have  it:  keep  a  thing,  its  iise  will 

come. 
I  hoard  itasasu^r-plumforllolmcs." 
He  laugh'd,  and  I,  though  sleepy,  like 

ahorse 
That  hears  the  corn-bin  open,  prick'd 

my  ears ; 
For  I  remember*d  Everard's  college 

fame 
When  we  were  Freabmes  :  then  at  my 

xequegt 


I 


He  brousht  it;  and  the  poet  little 
urged. 

But  with  some  prelude  of  disparage- 
ment, 

Read,  mouthing  out  his  hollow  oes  and 
aes. 

Deep-chested  music,  and  to  this  re- 
sult. 


MORTE   D'ARTHUR. 

So  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle 

roll'd 
Among  the  mountains  by  the  winter 

sea: 
Until  King  Arthur's  table,  man  by 

man. 
Had  fall'n   in  Lyonness  about  their 

Lord, 
King  Arthur :  then,  because  his  wound 

was  deep. 
The  bold  Sir  Bedivere  uplifted  him, 
Sir  Bedivere,  the  last  of  all  his  knights. 
And  bore  him  to  a  chapel  nigh  the  fiela, 
A  broken  chancel  with  a  broken  cross. 
That  stood  on  a  dark  strait  of  barren 

land. 
On  one  side  lay  the  Ocean,  and  on  one 
Lay  a  great  water,  and  the  moon  waa 

full. 
Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedi- 
vere : 
"The  sequel  of  to-day  un'^olders  nil 
The   gooilliest  fellowship  of  famous 

knights 
Whereof  this  world  holds  record.  Such 

a  sleep 
They  sleep— the  men  I  loved.    I  think 

that  we 
Shall  never  more,  at  any  future  time. 
Delight  our  souls  with  talk  of  knightly 

deeds. 
Walking  about  the   gardens  and  the 

halls 
Of  Camclot,  as  in  the  days  that  were. 
I  perish  by  this  people  \7liich  I  made, — 
Tho'  Merlin  sware  that  I  Ehould  como 


afjain 


-but  let  what  will 


To  rule  once  more 

be,  be, 
I  am  so  deeply  smitten  thro*  the  helm 
That  without  help  I  cannot  last  till 

mom. 
Thou  therefore  take  my  brand  Excali- 

bur, 
Which  was  my  pride :  for  thou  remem- 

berest  how 
In  those  old  days,  one  summer  noon, 

an  arm 
Rose  up  from  out  tho  bosom  of  the 

lake. 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  won- 
derful, 
Holding  the  sword — and  how  I  row'd 

across 
And  took  it,  and  have  worn  it,  like  a 

kinjij: 
And,  wheresoever  I  atv\  wmxs  ot  \ftW 
Jn  artertime,thla  also  ft\va\\  wVtvqvtdlX 
But  now  delay  not:  laJ5.o"EaLicaMte\a» 


MORTE  DARTnUR. 


And  fllus  bim  tai  InM   Uie  middle 
^  wtuit  tlioQ  se^t.  and  liEhtl;- 


"  Thoa  bast  belraj'd  thy  nature  unA 

Kot  ruiideringtrno  answer,  Mbese 
aiiy  fealiy,  iior  Ilka  a  jioblo  kiiieL 
For  turet  ilgn  Lad  foUow'd,  o 


AldlesB,  a1ona,aiid  imitton  tbro'  the 

A  ti(tlc  ilijiig  iiisf  liarm  u  wounded 

Yet  I  liir  heat  wjll  all    pcrConn    at 

Waleh  what  I  neo,  Bud  llglilily  bring 

So  Baying,  from  tlis  min'd  akrino  lia 

And  in  the  moon  alJiwart  the  place  ol 

WliBre  lay  the  mlahty  boueBoT  ancient 

Old  knlihts,  and  over  tliem  the  sea- 

Bhiill,  chill,  witb  dakos  oE  foam,  lie, 

Byil^EHg  patha,  and  Juts  of  pointed 

Came  on  the  sMnlng    levels   of  the 

Tliere  '  drew  he     forth   tho  hraud 
Excalibiir, 
Andu'erhlm,  drawing  It,  the  winter 

Brightening  the  akirta  of  a  long  cloud, 

And  eparkleit  keen  with  froflt  SjrBJnst 

the  hilt: 
For  all  the   haft  twhiklod  with  tUa, 

Myriads  of  topnz-llghts,  and  jaclnlh- 

Of  Buljtlest  Jewellery.     Ho  gaied  ao 

That  hnth  his  eyes  were  dazcled,  as  lie 

This  TCa^'and  that  dividing  the  swift 

>w    but  at  tJia  last  It 

ExcaHbur  coneeal'd 

. —  —iny-kiiotlfid  wnterflagB. 

That  whistled  stilt  and  dry  about  ttie 

o  strode  hB  back  alow  to  the  wounded 

King. 
Iheii    spake    lUng  Arthur   to  Sir 

Brdivere  : 
Host  ihou 


miua. 


which  I 


gave; 


thought  i 


jw,  1  eliaigo  th 

LI  ait  lief  and  dear,  and  do  tha 
QiL-e,  watch,  and  lightly  bring 
went  Sir  Bedlvere  the  second 

Ills  ridge,  and  paced  beslile  tl 
the  dewy  pebbles,  flx'd  i 

How  eurlouBly  and  Blrangely  chased. 
His    palms    together,  and  he    cried 

Surely  a  precious  thing,  one  worlhy 
Should  thus  be  lust  forever  from  th( 
light  have  iileuied  the  eyes  ol 
What  good  siiould  follow  this,  !f  thlt 
What  hann,  undone  ?  deep  lianii  t< 
Seeing  obaOieiice  Is  the  bond  o(  ru 


tera  it  well  to  obey  tl 


a  king 


iig{salck,a 

What  record,  or  *Iiat  relic  of  my  lord 
■^'■■juld  bo  t-   -"-— ' —    >— ■    ' — ^- 


tshould  bo  to   aftertima,  b 


made     the  hold   Sir 
heard  the  rippls  washing  in  tho 
'aler   lapping  on  the 
»b  iviooi  replied  King  Arlliur 


Sttying. '  Khig  Arthur's  aword,  Ei< 
Wrought  by  tho  loueJy  Einideii  ot  tho 
Kino  yenrs  abe  wrought  it,  sitting  li 


nil!  g  reverence, 
and  much  taata 

1  with  Ms  own 


MORTE  D' ARTHUR. 


41 


Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  breathing 

heayily  : 
^  What  is  it  thon  hast  seen  ?  or  'what 

hast  heard  ?  '* 
And    answer    made  the  bold  Sir 

Bedivere  : 
"  I  heard  the  water  lappinc  on  the  crag, 
And  the  long  ripple  washiug  in  the 

reeds." 
To  whom  replied  King  Arthur,  much 
in  wrath 
"  Ah,  miserable  and  unkind,  untrue. 
Uukiiightly,  traitor-hearted  !  Woe  is 

me  ! 
Authority  forgets  a  dying  king, 
LakL  widow*d  of  the  power  in  m%  eye 
That  bow'd  the  will.    I  see  thee  what 

thou  art. 
For  thou,  the  latest-left   of   all  my 

knights. 
In  whom  should  meet  the  offices  of  all, 
Thou  wouldst  betray  me  for  llio  pre- 
cious hilt ; 
Either  from  lust  of  gold,  or  like  a  girl 
Valuing  the  giddy  pleasure   of    the 

eyes. 
Yet,  for  a  man  may  fail  in  duty  twice. 
And  the  third  time  may  prosper,  get 

thee  hence  : 
But,  if  thou  spare  to  fling  Excalibur, 
I  will  arise  and  slay  thee  with  my 

hands.'* 
Then  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedirere,  and 

ran, 
And,  leaping  down  the  ridges  lightly, 

plunged 
Among  the  bulrush-beds,  and  clutch*d 

the  sword, 
And  strongly  wheel'd  and  threw  it. 

The  great  brand 
Made   lightnings  in  the  splendor  of 

the  moon. 
And  flashing  round  and  round,  and 

whirrd  in  an  arch. 
Shot  liko  a  streamer  of  the  northern 

mom. 
Seen  where  the  moving  isles  of  winter 

shock 
By  night,  with  noises  of  the  northern 

sea. 
So  flashed  and  fell  the  brand  Excalibur: 
But  ere  he  dipt  the  surface,  rose  an 

arm 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  won- 
derful. 
And  caught  him  by  the  hilt,  and  bran- 

dish'dhim 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in 

the  mere. 
And  lightly  went  the  other  to  the  King . 
Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  drawing 

thicker  breath  : 
**  Now  see  I  by  thine  eyes  that  this  is 

done. 
Speak  out :  what  is  it  thou  hast  heard 

or  seen  ?  " 
And  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedi- 

rere  r 
''Sir  King,  I  closed  mine  eyelids, 

imt  the  gems 


Should  blind  my  purpose,  for  I  never 

saw. 
Nor  shall  see,  here  or  elsewhere,  till  I 

die, 
Not  tho*  I  live  three  lives  of  mortal 

men. 
So  great  a  miracle  as  yonder  hilt. 
Then  with  both  hands  I  flung  him, 

wheeling  him  ; 
But  when  I  look'd  again,  behold  an 

arm. 
Clothed    in    white    samite,  mystic, 

wonderful, 
That  caught  him   by   the   hilt,    and 

brandish'd  him : 
Three  limes,  and  urew  him  under  in 

the  mere." 
And    answer    made   King  Arthur, 
breathing  hard  : 
'*  My  end  draws  nigh  ;  'tis  time  that  I 

were  gone. 
Make  broad  thy  shoulders  to  receive 

my  weipht. 
And  bear  me  to  the  margin;  yet  I 

fear 
My  wound  hath  taken  cold,  and  I  shall 

die." 
So  saving,  from  the   pavement  he 

hall  rose. 
Slowly,  with  pain,    reclining  on  his 

arm. 
And  looking  wistfully  with  wide  blue 

eyes 
As  in  a  picture.    Him  Sir  Bedivere 
Remorsefully  rcganlcd  thro'  his  tears. 
And  would  have  spoken,  but  he  found 

not  words, 
Then  took  with  care,  and  kneeling  on 

one  knee, 
O'er  both  his  shoulders  drew  the  lan- 

cuid  hands, 
And  rising  bore  him  thro'  the  place  of 

tombs. 
But,  as  he   walk'd.   King  Arthur 

panted  hard. 
Like  one  that  feels  a  nightmare  on  his 

bed 
Wlien  all  the  house  is  mute.  So  sigh*d 

tho  King, 
Muttering  and  murmuring  at  his  ear, 

**  Quick,  quick  ! 
I  fear  it  is  too  late,  and  I  ehall  die." 
But  the   other  swiftly   strode   from 

ridge  to  ridge. 
Clothed  with  his  breath,  and  looking, 

as  he  wiilk'd, 
larger  than  human  on  the  frozen  hills. 
He  heard  the  deep  behind  him,  and  a 

cry 
Before.    His  own  thought  drove  him 

like  a  goad. 
Dry  clash'd  his  harness  in  the  icy  caves 
And  barren  chasms,  and  all  to  left  and 

right 
The  bare  black  cliff  clang'd  round  him, 

as  he  based 
His  feet  on  Juts  of  slippery  CTa^tha.\ 

rang 
Sharp-fimitten  with  the  dVi\\.  ol  scnsA^ 

heelfl— 


42  MORTE  D' 

Audon  a  BUddea,  lo  1  Uie  Isiel  lake. 
And  Oie  lung  gloriea   of  Uie  nlut 

Theu  saw  tbey   liDw  there  hove 
dusky  barge, 
Dark  at  a  f  uiieial  ■carl  from  Btem 

Beiiealli  them  ;  and  descending  <hi 

ThaC  ail  tlio  decks  wore  deiiee  ■K\ 

led,    blac 
I— liy  thcs 


All  night  In  a  naeto  land,  where  no 

Or  halh  Fome,  since  Uie  middiig  of  Iha 

Then  monnni'd  Arthur,  "  Flaco  me 
in  Uio  targe," 
And  to  the  barge  they  cEino.    There 

Put  tottli  thett  hands,  and  took  Ihe 

King,  and  wept. 
Bat  Bho,  that  rose  the  tallest  of  them 

Ajul  fairest,  laid  his  bead  upon  her 

And  loosed  the  nhatler'd  cssgue,  and 


a  against  bis 

Striped  with  dark  hlood:  for  all  his 

lac^o  mis  wbtte 
And  eolorleas,  and  like  the  wilhor'd 

Smote    by    the  fresh    heom   of   the 

Bprlnciiig  oast 
Aad  alt  bis  grearos  and  culu&ea  dashed 

witi  drops 
Of  cnsot  :  and  the  light  and  lustrous 

That  made  his  forehead  like  a  rising 

nigh    from    (ho    dal-a-lhrone  -  wore 

jiBTi'h'd  with  dimt ; 
Or,  clotted  Into  pointa   and  hanjlng 


frinsGdhlsllpa. 
So    like   a  chattac'd   column  loy  the 

Kot  llko  tbat  Arthur  who,  with  lance 

From  spur  lo  plmnoaslarof  touma- 

Ehot  thro'  lie  lists  at  Camelot,  nnd 

ofl^iniTs. 


/ 


1  hide  m;  forehead  a 
e  tlie  true  old  timi 


V  (banco  htoiigbt  oi 


Such  times  hSTo  been  not  since  tbe  I 
UgLt  that  led  1 

Tho  holy  EldeiswSlhthflElftof  uiJflTll.  ■ 

Hutiii^A  the  nlutle  jtou>D  tai-"  "  '-** 
dissolved 

"Which  was  an  Iniago  of  the  n 

And  1 ,  iho'lBPt.  go  forth  ffompauic 
Aiid  the  davD  darken  round  in< 

Among  new  meo,  Etrange  Saisi,  other  H 

And  Bloivly  answered  Arlhur  fcom 

"Tlio  iSder  order  chongelh,  yleh 


Comfort  thjEelf  :  ivbat  comfort  la  li 
thuvo  lived  my  life,  and  that  nhieh I  |t 
May  lie  within  himself  make 


If  Ihou  shouldst  n 
Than  tl;lswortcldrei 


if.  Wherefol^  l 

fountain  far  me  night  nud  I 

For  what  arc  men  hettec  Ihuii  sheep  <M 

life  witliln  th»| 
inowlug  God.  they  ill 


call  the      ■  ■ 
cBnthoi 


Bound  by  gold  chains  nbout the  feet  d 
Butiiowfacewoll.     I  am  goingaloiigB 
tVith  these  thoa  seEst— if  indeed  I 
(For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a,| 
■vallryof  Avilion; 


Where  f.illB 

Nor  cTEr  wind  bli 

lies 
Deep-nondow'd,  hi 


boil,  c 


can?  I 
s  loudly;  b 
[ly,  talc  with  o^  Ij 


THE  GARDENERS  DAUGHTER. 


48 


So  said  he,  and  the  barge  with  oar 
and  sail 

Moved  from  the  brink,  like  some  full- 
breasted  swan 

That,  fluting  a  wild  carol  ere  her  death, 

Ruffles  her  pure  cold  plume,  and  takes 
the  flood 

With  swar.hy  webs.  Long  stood  Sir 
Bedivere 

Reyolving  many  memories,  till  the  hull 

Look*d  one  black  dot  against  the  verge 
of  dawn. 

And  on  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away 

Here  ended  Hall,  and  our  last  light, 

that  long 
Had  wink' a  and  threaten'd  darkness, 

flared  and  fell : 
At  which  tlie  Parson,  sent  to  sleep 

with  sound, 
And    waked    with    silence,    grunted 

"  Good !  '*  but  we 
Sat  rapt :  it  was  the  tone  with  which 

he  read- 
Perhaps  some  modern  touches  here 

and  there 
Bedeem'd  it  from  the  charge  of  noth- 
ingness— 
Or  else  we  loved  the  man,  and  prized 

his  work : 
I  know  not :  but  we  sitting,  as  I  said, 
The  cock  crew  loud ;  as  at  that  time 

of  year 
The  lusty  bird  takes  every  hour  for 

dawn: 
Then  Francis,  muttering,  like  a  man 

ill-used, 
**  There  now— that's  nothing  ! "  drew  a 

Uttleback, 
And  drove  his  heel  into  thesmoulder'd 

log, 
That  sent  a  blast  of  sparkles  up  the 

flue  : 
And  so  to  bed ;  where  yet  in  sleep  I 

seem'd 
To  sail  with  Arthur  under  looming 

shores, 
Point  after  point;   till  on  to  dawn, 

when  dreams 
Begin  to  feel  the  truth  and  stir  of  day, 
To  me,  methought,  who  waited  with  a 

crowd. 
There  came  a  bark  that,  blowing  for- 
ward, bore 
King  Arthur,  like  a  modern  gentleman 
Of  stateliest  poi-t ;  and  all  the  people 

cried, 
"  Arthur  is  come  again :   he  cannot 

die.'» 
Then  those  that  stood  upon  the  hills 

behind 
Bepeated— '*  Come  again,  and  thrice  as 

fair  ; " 
And,  further  inland,  voices  echoed— 

"  Come 
With  all  good  things,  and  war  shall  be 

no  more." 
At  this  a  hundred  bells  began  to  peal , 
That  with  the  sound  I  woke,  and  heard 

indeed  i 


The  clear  church-bells  ring  in  tho 
Christmas  mom. 


THE  GARDENER»S  DAUGHTEB; 
OR,  THE  PICTURES. 

This  morning  is  the  morning  of  the 

day. 
When  I  and  Eustace  from  the  city  went 
To  see  the  Gardener's  Daughter ;  I  and 

he, 
Brothers  in  Art :  a  friendship  so  com- 
plete 
Portion'din  halves  between  us,  that 

we  crew 
The  fable  of  the  city  where  we  dwelt. 
My  Eustace  might  have  sat  for  Her- 
cules ; 
So  muscular  he  spread,  so  broad  of 

breast. 
He,  by  some  law  that  holds  in  love, 

and  draws 
The  greater  to  the  lesser,  long  desired 
A  certain  miracle  of  symmetiy, 
A  miniature  of  loveliness,  all  grace 
Suuim'd  up  and  closed  in  little ;— Juli- 

So  light  of  foot,  so  light  of  spirit,— O, 

she 
To  me  myself,  for  some  three  careless 

moons, 
The  summer  pilot  of  an  empty  heart 
Unto  the  shores  of  nothing !  Know  you 

not 
Such  touches  are  but  embassies  of  love. 
To  tamper  with  the  feelings,  ere  ho 

found 
Empire  for  life  ?  but  Eustace  painted 

her, 
And  said  to  me,  she  sitting  with  us 

then, 
'*  When  will  you.  paint  like  this  ?  "  and 

I  replied, 
(My  words  were  half  in  earnest,  half 

in  jest,) 
<♦  *Ti8  not  your  work,  but  Love's.  Love, 

unperceived, 
A  more  ideal  Artist  he  than  all. 
Came,  drew  your  pencil  from  you, 

made  those  eyes 
Darker  than  daikest  pansies,  and  that 

hair 
More  black  than  ashbuds  in  the  front 

of  March." 
And  Juliet  answer'd  laughing,   "Go 

and  see 
The  Gardener's  daughter  :  trust  me, 

after  that, 
You  scarce  can  fail  to  match  his  mas- 
terpiece." 
And  up  we  rose,  and  on  the  spur  we 

went.. 
Not  wholly  in  the  busy  world,  nor 

quite 
Beyond  it,  blooms  the  garden  that  I 

love. 
News  from  the  humming  eV\;^  cnimMb 

to  it 


m 


U  THE  GARDENERS 

bells; 
Anil.  Billing  muffled  In  daik  loavw, 

ThB  KiiiUy  clanging  of  Ihe  miiistpr 

AlChougli'lifliweBH  it  and  tho  gardoii 

A  league  ol  gran,  wash'd  b;  a.  bIdw 

ThBI,  ttlR'di^lli  languid  pulees of  the 

W«?Manil»lJ 


Are  dewT-freeh. 


boui  tlie  large  llm«  leather 


4till  place  abe.  hoarded  in 


Her  tHnie  1 
01  KcK 


griet. 


□  up  to  Up-    Who  hnd 
j    Gardener"!!  daughter? 


Bo  powlo  eiprBasdeUght,  in  praise  of 

Grew  omlory.    Sui-h  b  lord  Is  Love. 
Aud    Benuty  suth  a  miatrtss  vt  lie 
world. 
And  if  1  eald  that  Fanej,  led  by  I.oto. 
Would  phiy  with  fljing  fomi»  and  im- 

Tet  tJda  la  hIso  Irae.  thnt.  long  befere 


B  t 

Bom  out  of  eTBtyllilng  I  heard 
Flutli'r'd   about  mj   senses  and   my 
And  vagi'iB  desires,  like  fltfiil  blastn  oE 
To  one  thai  Iravela  qiikklr,  made  the 

or  Ute  dellelous,  and   all  Hinds  ol 

tlionnhi. 
That  vereiHl  tipnn  them,  xreeler  thnn 

the  ilream 
Drearo'd  hv  a  happy  man.  whan  the 

Unseen.  Is  brightening  to  bis  bridal 

this  orbit  of  the  meinoiy 


•t.    All  Iho  liind  li 
1  broad   and  equa 


SmoU  uf  tho  to 
DrewXiil'wnn 


Ring 


1  old  Slays  bad  thrlca  Oxb  Ulo 
luliia  eaiB.    Tbe  ateer  fo^iot 


nelgUior 

Aiiil  Inning  to  his  fellun's.    From  the 

Came    luli^ea    of  (lie   we11>canlented 

The  lark  could  uarco  get  out  hia  uotcs 

Bat  shook  his  long  together   u  lie 

His  happy  hums,  the  ground.    To  loft 
anfl  ilg"- 


The  . 


hills ; 


u  told  hla  D 


nalltlis 


jonu  loud,  as  IhD'  be  vent  the  bird  ot 

And^Euslace  tum'd,  and  smiling  art* 

■Hear  how  tho  bushes  ortiol  bv  my  llfo, 
rhese  birds  have    joyful    thongbCl, 
Thinli  yon  Iber  ring 


■  Alrh  i. 


I 


THE  GARDENER'S  DAUGHTER. 


45 


And  one  warm  gust,  full-fed  with  peiv 

fume,  blew 
B^ond  us,  as  we  eiiter*d  in  the  cool. 
The  saiden  stretches  southward.    In 

the  midst 
A  cedar  spread  his  dark-green  layers 

of  shade. 
The  garden-glasses  shone,   and  mo- 
mently 
Tlie  twinkling  laurel  scattered  silver 

lights. 
*' Eustace,*'  I    said,   **this  wonder 

keeps  the  house.*' 
He  nodded,  but  a  moment  afterwards 
He  cried,  •*  Look  !  look  I "  Before  he 

ceased  I  tuni'd. 
And,  ei-e  a  star  can  wink,  beheld  her 

Uiere. 
For  up  the  porch  there  grew  an  Eastern 

rose. 
That,  flowering  high,  the  last  night's 

gale  had  caught, 
'  And  blowu  across  the  walk.    One  arm 

aloft— 
Gown'd  in  pure  white,  that  fitted  to  the 

shape — 
Holding  the  bush,  to  fix  it  back,  she 

stood. 
A  single  stream  of  all  her  soft  brown 

hair 
Poar'd  on  one  side :  the  shadow  of  the 

flowers 
Stole  all  the  golden  gloss,  and,  waver- 
ing 
liovinffly    lower,  trembled    on    her 

w^t — 
Ah,    happy  shade  — and   still    went 

wavering  down, 
But,  ere  it  touch'd  a  foot,  that  might 

have  danced 
The  greensward  into  greener  circles, 

dipt. 
And  mix'd  with  shadows  of  the  com- 
mon ground ! 
But  the  lull  day  dwelt  on  her  brows, 

and  sunn'd 
Her  violet  eyes,  and  all  her  Hebe  bloom , 
And  doubled  his  own  warmth  against 

her  lips. 
And  on  the  bounteous  wave  of  such  a 

breast 
As  never  pencil  drew.  Half  light,  half 

shade. 
She  stood,  a  sight  to  make  an  old  man 

young. 
So  rapt,  we  near'd  the  house ;  but 

she,  a  Rose 
In  roses,mingled  with  her  fragrant  toil, 
Nor  heard  us  come,  nor  from  her  ten- 
dance tum'd 
Into  th«  world  without ;  till  close  at 

hand. 
And  almost  ere  I  knew  mine  own 

intent, 
Tbis  mnrmnr  broke  the  stillness  of  that 

air 
Which  brooded  round  about  her  : 

"Ah.  one  rose, 
One  rose,  bat  one,  by  those  fair  fingers 

cnll'd, 


Were  worth  a  himdred  kisses  prees'd 

on  lips 
Less  exquisite  than  tliino." 

Sho  look'd  :  but  all 
Suffused  with  blushes — neither  self- 

possess'd 
Nor  startled,  but  betwixt  this  mood 

and  that. 
Divided  in  a  graceful  quiet— paused, 
And  dropt  the  branch  she  held,  and 

turning,  wound 
Her  looser  hair  ia  braid,  and  stirr'd 

her  lips 
For  some  sweet  answer,  Iho'  no  answer 

came. 
Not  yet  refused  the  rose,  but  granted 

It, 
And  moved  away,  and  left  me,  statue- 
like, 
In  act  to  render  thanks. 

I,  that  whole  day. 
Saw  her  no  more,  altho'  I  linger'd 

there  ; 

Till  every  daisy  slept,  ana  Love's  white 

Htar 
Beam'd  thro'  the  thicken'd  cedar  in 

the  dusk. 
So  home  we  went,  and  all  the  live- 
long way 
With  solemn  gibe  did  Eustace  banter 

me. 
**  Now,"  said  he,  **  will  you  climb  the 

top  of  Art. 
Tou  cannot  fail  but  work  in  hues  to 

dim 
The  Titianic  Flora.    Will  you  match 
My  Juliet?  you,  not  you,— the  ISIasler, 

Love, 
A  more  ideal  Artist  he  than  all." 
So  home  I  went,  but  could  not  sleep 

for  joy, 
Heading  her  perfect  features  in  the 


gloom, 
«!ni 


/ 


Kissing  the  rose  she  gave  me  o'er  and 

o'er. 
And  shaping  faithful   record  of  the 

glance 
That  graced  the  giving— such  a  noise  of 

life 
Swarm 'd  in  the  golden  present,  such  a 

voice 
Caird  to  me  from  the  years  to  come, 

and  such 
A  length  of  bright  horizon  rimm'd  the 

dark. 
And  all  that  night  I  heard  the  watch- 
man i>eal  • 
The  sliding  season :  all  that  night  I 

heard 
The  heavy  clocks  knolling  the  drowsy 

hours. 
The  drowsy  hours,  dispensers  of  all 

good. 
O'er  the  mute  city  stole  with  folded 

wings, 
Pistilling  odors  on  me  as  they  went 
To   greet   their  fairer  sisters  of  the 

East. 
Love  at    first  6\gh\,,  ftT6\.-\iOTTi,  wA 

heir  to  all, 


THE  GARDENER'S  DAUGHTER. 


4 


Made  Ihls  night  tbiu.    UencerorwaTd 


A  word   could  bring  tbo  color  to  mj- 

Atboiielit'-wDDlil  Oil  my  c^DB  with  bap- 

Lovu  trabled  llCo  witliiii  mc,  and  nltb 

Ttie  jrear  iDpreaBed. 

Tlie  .InuBhl"™  of  He  year. 
One  after  one,  thio'  tliut  bLIU  garden 

EactiEatiaudeil   with    her    pecalioi 

Daiic«a  liilu  IlDlil,  and  dlod  into  l]ie 

■hndu: 
And  each  (ii  pMaliis  loucb'd  with  some 

Or  SDem'a  to  touuh  bar,  bo  Ihat  dny  I17 

LUte  one  Uiat   oerer   oiii  be  wLoll; 

Her  beaitty  grew ;  till  Autiunii  brougLt 

For  Euatace,  when  I  heard  lila  deep 

"  I  will," 
Bieatiied,  Itke  Uie  roioiiant  of  a  God, 

to  hofd 
From  Uienpe  tluo'  all  Uio  worlds  :  bat 


Felt  earth  ua  air  benealh  nio,  till  I 
Tbe  nirbet'oats,  and  louiid  her  Btimd- 

lllgtHUtD. 

Tbere  mi  we   down  upon   a  garilcn 

Two   mutiully  enfohled;    Love,   tlie 

Betn'«ll'u^  111  the  clrvla  of  Ills  arms 
Eiiwouiid  ui  botli ;  uid  over  many  a 

Of  waning   lime  tlie   gray   catbedial 

AorOBi  81  bazy  irliniincr  of  Uio  we»t, 
Beveal-d  Iholr  ahlniiiB  windowa :  (mm 

Ibem  <liiiitiM 
llae bells:  wu  Ilgiea'd;  with Ibo time 

we  playM  j 
WoBpoltBufoUiBrlhliiEai  wo  eoiiraed 

The  aiibjei-t  most  at  beatt,  more  near 

Llko  itoTM  obout  a  dtvecoto,  wlieellHg 

round 
The    central  wlBb,  until   wa  nettled 

thprff. 
Th<!n.  in  Ibut  time  and  place.  I  spolie 


0  heart  of  hi 

And   ill   the   compaaa  of  tlirea  llttlal 

More  niTiBical  than  ever  came  in  one:,     I 

The  aUverlrugnienlBorii  broken  Yirtitf 
MadBiuo  maet  happy,  lallBting,"  Ian  ■ 

Shall  1  cease  here?    lathUenonal 

H^^ay  1 

That  my  desire,    llSe    all   «tronse3t|j 

By  Its  oiii'i  euergy-fulflird  !  I  self, 
Merged  In  comiJeUou  ?     Would  jon 

How  passion  loae  thro'  dicnmitanUil 

Beyond  all  grad™  doTelop'd?  and  !n' 

I  bnd  not  BtayedBolong  to  tell  yon  all, 
But  whiU'  1  mused  camo  Memory  with 

sod  eyes. 
noldJng  the  folded  annals  of  lay  roalli; 
And  while  I  mused,  JL^ve  with  kidt 

And  with  11  Hying  linger  swept  lay  lipB, 
And  Brake,  -'Be  wise:  not  easily  for- 

Aro  those,  who,  setting  wide  tlie  doors 

that  bar 
The  Bflcret   tridnl   chambers   ot   Iha 

Tel  inleht  J  tell  of  meetings,  of  (aro- 

)f  thnt  whifh   csne   between,  moie 

Biveetthancn.h, 
;n  whispers,  lllsu  the  whispere  ot  the 

rhat  trcmhlo  tound  a  nlghlitigalo— In 

VhicE  perfect  Joy,  porplei'dforntler- 

ilole  from  her  Bister  Eoirow.    Might  1 

)(  diEerenco,  reconcilement,  pledgee 

Indvowa,  whore  tliore  was  never  need 

liid  Maees,  where  the  heart  on  one 

ivild  leap 
lung  tranced  from  all  pulsation,  an 

lie  heaTonsbotween  their  tnlry  fleeces 

owMoU  Iheirmyslic  pilf"  wlih  fleet. 

Or  i7hj]a_  the  balmy  glooming,  L-ro9- 

Sprf  .id  the  light  hone  along  the  rlrer- 


f 


DORA. 


isn^rht  slid  down  one  long  stream  of 

sighing  wind, 
And  in  her  bosom  bore  the  baby,  Sleep. 
But  this  whole  hour  your  eyes  have 

been  intent 
On  that  vell'd  picture— veil'd,  for  what 

it  holds 
May  not  be  dwelt  on  by  the  common 

day. 
This  prelude  has  prepared  thee.  Raise 

thy  soul ; 
Make  thine  heart  ready  with  thine 

eyes  :  the  time 
Is  come  to  raise  the  veil. 

Behold  her  there, 
As  I  beheld  her  ere  she  knew  my 

heart, 
My  first,  last  love;  the  idol  of  my 

youth, 
The  darling  of  my  manhood,  and,  alas! 
Now  the  most  blessed  memory  of  mine 

age. 


DORA. 

With  farmer  Allan  at  the  farm  abode 
William  and  Bora.    William  was  his 

son. 
And  she  his  niece.    He  often  look'd 

at  them, 
And  often  thought,  "  1*11  make  them 

man  and  wife.'* 
Now  Dora  felt  her  uncle's  will  in  all. 
And  yeam'd  towards  William ;  but 

the  youth,  because 
He  had  been  always  with  her  in  the 

house. 
Thought  not  of  Dora. 

Then  there  came  a  dav 
When  Allan  call'd  his  son,  and  said, 

"  My  son : 
I  married  late,  but  I  would  wish  to  see 
My  grandchild  on  my  knees  before  I 

And  I  have  set  my  heart  upon  a  match. 
Now  therefore  look  to  Dora  :   she  is 

well 
To  look  to  :  thrifty  too  beyond  her 

age. 
She  is  my  brother's  daughter :  he  and  I 
Had  once  hard  words,  ana  parted,  and 

he  died 
In  foreign  lands ;  but  for  his  sake  I 

bred 
His  daughter  Dora :  take  her  for  your 

wife; 
For  I  have  wish'd  this  marriage,  night 

and  day, 
For  many  years."    But  William  an- 

swer'd  short : 
•*  I  cannot  marry  Dora :  by  my  life, 
I  will  not  nuurry  Dora."    Then  the  old 


man 


Was  wroth,  and  doubled  up  his  hands, 
and  said: 

**  You  will  not,  boy !  you  dare  to  an- 
swer thus  I 


47 
Look 


And  so  it  shall  be  now  for  me. 

to  it; 
Consider,  William :  take  a  month  to 

tliiuk. 
And  let  me  have  an  answer  to  my 

wish 
Or,  by  the  Lord  that  made  me,  you 

shall  pack, 
And   never  more  darken  my  doors 

again." 
But  William  answer'd  madly  ;  bit  hi^ 

lips. 
And  broke  away.    The  more  he  look'd 

at  her 
The  less  he  liked  her ;  and  his  ways 

were  harsh; 
But  Dora  bore  them  meekly.    Then 

before 
The  month  was  out  he  left  his  father's 

house, 
And  hired  himself  to  work  within  the 

fields ; 
And  half  in  love,  half  spite,  he  woo'd 

and  wed 
A  laborer's  daughter,  Mary  Morrison. 
Then,  when  the  bells  were  ringing, 

Allan  call'd 
His  niece  and  said  :  "  My  girl,  I  love 

you  well ; 
But  if  you  speak  with  him  that  was 

my  son, 
Or  change  a  word  with  her  he  calls 

his  wife, 
My  home  is  none  of  yours.    My  will  is 

law." 
And  Dora  promised,  being  meek.    She 

thouglW;, 
"  It  camiot  be  :  my  imcle's  mind  will 

change ! " 
And  days  went  on,  and  there  was 

born  a  boy 
To  William ;  then  distresses  came  on 

him 
And  day  by  day  he  pass'd  his  father's 

gate, 
Heart-broken,  and  his  father  help'd 

him  not. 
But  Dora  stored  what  little  she  could 

save, 
And  sent  it  them  by  stealth,  nor  did 

they  know 
Who  sent  it ;  till  at  last  a  fever  seized 
On  William,  and  in  harvest  time  he 

died. 
Then  Dora  went  to  Mary.    Mary  sat 
And  look'd  with  tears  ujwn  her  boy, 

and  thought 
Hard  things  of  Dora.    Dora  came  and 

said: 
"  I  have  obey'd  my  uncle  until  now, 
Andlhavesinn'd,  for  it  was  all  thro' 

me 
This  evU    came    on  William  at  the 

first. 
But,  Mary,  for  the  sake  of  him  that's 


gone, 
idf 


And  for  your  sake,  the  'Womttn.\)yi«.\.\i<^ 

chose, 

But  in  my  time  a  iatber*a  word  waa  I  And  for  this  OTphaxi,  1  am.  comi^  \a 
■to^  '         you : 


Yon  know  there  liaa 

So  tull  a  batrost : 

boy, 
And  I  vrill 


le  full 


III  Ht  blm  In  D>7  uncle's  eji 
the  vheal  i    tint   nlieu    1 


cl  1i 


boy, 


And  bless  bli 

Aiid  DoritKKiKUie  child,  and  went 
Acioss   tlie   wlient,  ami  sat  apoa  a 
9  msBy  pop- 


That  wB»  nnsown,  wher 

Far  ofll  lie  farmer  esmB  Into  I 
And  spied  her  not ;  tor  i.oue  c 

a  tell  lilm  Dora  vaiMd  t 


dark. 


IdhBTO  ilsen  andgona 
oil'd  bor  1  aad  Uie  renp- 
U,  and  oil  the  Iniid  was 


'd  intc 


IH  the  morrow  cai; 
_.   _  .  ok 
The  child  once  more,  onU 
unil  ; 
a  little  wieBOi 

That  erew  about,  imd  tied  I 

hat 
To  make  him  pleasing  In  I 

Then  when  the  farmer  pass 
held 
lespled  her,  and  he  left  his  men  nt 

lM  came  and  said :  '>  ^Vhecs    were 
yoa  yostBrdaJ  V 
■Whose  child  la  fliat?    What  are  you 

doing  horo  ?  " 
So  Dora  cost  her  eyei  noon  the  icrouTid, 
■jid  oiiawer'd  softly,    "Thliis  Wl- 

Anddldlnet,"    Bald  Allan, '-did  I 

tabid  you,  Dora  ?  "  Dorasaldagohi : 
J>o  with  ine  as  you  will,  hut  take  Iho 
child 
And  bless  him  for  the  sake  of  him 


To/kHewTM-word  wns  Inw.aiid  yet 
To  Blight  it.    Well— (or  I  will  lulte  tho 


-A 


3d  saying,  lio  took  the  boy,  that  cried 

Inii  Btrugglcd  hard.    Tho  wreath  of 
Bowers  fyll 


At  Dora's  feab  Shs  bow'd  npon  hor'l 
hoiids.  '■ 

And  the  boy's  cry  come  to  bcs  front  I 
the  Held,  ■ 

Mora  and  more  distant.  She  bow'd -I 
down  bei  head,  ■ 

Remembering  tho  day  when  Cut  ahe  I 

And  all  ike  things Ihnthad been.  She 


Ji  feU,  B 


jd  all  the  land  waa 
Then  Doia  went  to  Mary's    houaa..! 

B~~  )ou  tlia  threshold.  Marysswihe  bo*' 
Bs  not  with  Doia.    She  broke  out  in 

To  God,  that  Itolp'd  her  in  her  widow' 

And  Dora  said,  •'  My  Dncla  took  tllO 

But,  Mary.letme  liTe  and  work 

lie  says  that  he  will  never  see  me 

Then   answer'd    Mary,    "  This   slutJl 

That  thou  shouldst  toko  my  trouble  on 

Uiyaelf  ! 
And,  nowl  Udnk.ho  sliall  not  haya 

the  boy. 
Far  he  will  teach  blm  hardness,  and  to 

Blisht 
His  mother ;  therefore  thou  and  I  will 

Anill  wll]  have  my  boy,  and  bring  lilm 

And  I  will  beg  of  Urn  to  takethee 


ir  'William's  child,  nntUlH 
Ipna." 

So  the  women  Wsa'a. 
,  and  set  out,  nnd  irauth'(|j 

a  on  tlie  1  etch :  they  poep'4, 
up  belwlst  bis  grandsliol  ^ 


And 


1  filapt  hln 
the  uheeks, 


a  hollowfl  of  bia 


lie  that  (oved  Mm :  ond 
sirelch-d  out 
And  babbled  for  11a  golden  si 

From  jQlon's  watuh,  and  sparkled  l^fl 

^behold 
His  mollier,  he  cried  out  to 

hct! 
And  Allan  aat  Mm  down,  ai 


lit  when  Uie  I 


AUDLEY  COURT. 


4t 


"'O  Father!— if  you   let  me  call 

you  so— 
I  never  came  a-begging  for  myself, 
Or  William,  or  this  child ;  but  now  I 

come 
For  Dora :  take  her  back ;  she  loves 

you  well. 

0  Sir,  wheu  William  died,  he  died  at 

peace 
With  all  men  ;  for  I  ask*d  him,  and  he 

said. 
He  could  not  ever  rue  his  marrying 

me — 

1  had  been  a  patient  wife  :  but,  Sir,  he 

said 
That  he  was  wrong  to  cross  his  father 

thus  : 
*  God  bless  him  ! '  he  said,  *  and  may 

he  never  know 
The  troubles  1  have  gone  thro*  I '  Then 

he  turn'd 
His  face  and  pass*d  —  unhappy  that  I 

am! 
But  now.  Sir,  let  me  have  my  boy,  for 

you 
Will  make  him  hard,  and  he  will  learn 

to  slight 
His  father's  memoiy ;  and  take  Dora 

back, 
And  let  all  this  be  as  it  wns  before.*' 
So  Mary   said,  and  Dora  hid   her 

face 
By  Mary.    There  was  silence  in  the 

room; 
And  all  at  once  the  old  man  burst  in 

sobs : — 
"  I  have  been  to  blame— to  blame.  I 

have  kiird  my  son. 
I  have  kill'd  him  —  but  I  loved  him— 

my  dear  son. 
Hay  God  forgive  me !  —  I  have  been  to 

blame. 
KisB  me,  my  children.** 

Then  they  clung  about 
The  old  man*8  neck,  and  kiss  d  him 

many  times. 
And  all  the  man  was  broken  with  re- 
morse ; 
And  all  his  love  came  back  a  hundred 

fold; 
And  for  three  hours  he  8obb*d  o*er 

William's  child. 
Thinking  of  William. 

So  those  four  abode 
Within  one  house  together;   and  as 

years 
Went    forward,    Mary   took   another 

mate; 
But  Dora  lived  uumaiTied  till  her 

death. 


AUDLEY    COURT. 

**  The  Bull,  the  Fleece  are  cramm*d, 

and  not  a  room 
For  love  or  money      Let  us  picnic 

there 
At  Andley  Court.'*' 

1  upfikie,  vMlo  Audley  feast  I 


Humm*d  like  a  hive  all  round  the  naiw 
row  quay. 

To  Francis,  with  a  basket  on  his  arm, 

To  Francis  just  aliirhted  from  the  boat. 

And  breathing  of  the  sea.    '*  With  all 
my  heart," 

Said  Francis.      Tlien   we   shoulder'd 
thro'  the  swarm. 

And  rounded  by  the  stillness  of  the 
beach 

To  where  tlie  bay  runs  up  its  latest 
horn. 
We  left  the  dying  ebb  that  faintly 
lipp'd 

The  flat  red  granite;   so  by  many  a 
sweep 

Of  meadow  smooth  from  aftermath  we 
reach'd 

The  griflin-guarded  gates,  and  pass'd 
thro'  all 

The  pillar'd  dusk  of  sounding  syca- 
mores. 

And  cross'd  the  garden  to  the  garden- 
er's lodge, 

With  all  its  casements  bedded,  and  its 
walls 

And  chimneys  muffled  in   the  leafy 
vine. 
There,  on  a  slope  of  orchard,  Fran- 
cis laid 

A  damask  napkin  wrought  with  horse 
and  liouiid. 

Brought  out  a  dusky  loaf  that  smelt  of 
nome, 

And,  half-cut-down,   a    pasty   costly 
made. 

Where  quail  and  pigeon,  lark  and  lev- 
eret lay, 

Lilce  fossils  of  the  rock,  with  golden 
yoiks 

Imbedded   and    injellied;   last,  with 
these, 

A  flask  of  cider  from  his  father's  vats, 

Piinie,  which  1  knew ;  and  so  we  sat 
and  eat 

And  talk'd  old  matters  over ;  who  was 
dead. 

Who  married,  who  was  like  to  be,  and 
how 

The  races  went,  and  who  would  rent 
tbe  hall : 

Then    touch'd  upon  the  game,  how 
scarce  it  was 

This  season  :    glancing  thence,   dis- 
cuss'd  the  farm, 

Tlie  fourfleld  system,  and  the  price  of 
grain  ; 

And  struck  upon  the  corn-laws,  where 
we  split,  J 

And  came  again  together  on  the  king  ' 

With  heated  faces;    till  he  laughM 
aloud ; 

And,  while  the  blackbird  on  the  pip- 
pin hung 

To  hear  him,  clapt  his  hand  in  mine 
and  sang  — 
"  Oh !  who  would  fight  and  march 
and  countermarch. 

Be  shot  for  sixpence  in  a  b«L\X\e-^ft\^, 

And  shovell'd  up  into  a  XAooOl^  XxquOx, 


r 


WALKISG  TO  THE  MAIL. 
?  but  lol  me 


u  oH'sir 
e  lie  pllj,  BO  I 
iliH  liammer  hers  In  March  — 
I  wonl>,  aud  Bdileil  names  I 
>,    Elfen  Aubrey,  sleep,  aiid 
1'  folded   in   Ihy   italer'B 
Sind  Hleeplng,  hajil;  dreum  her  sno  la 
"Sleep.  Ellen,  folded   In    Emilia's 


la. 


II  ell  el 


R  health  a: 

Bleepri'ceittliUiK  love  and  traat  agalust 

laoto-nlglit ;  I  come  lo-moiTow  mom. 
'■  I  go,  but  I    rotuni :    1  would   I 

The   pilot  of   the  datkness  End  the 

Sleep.  Ellen  Aubrey,  love,  and  dream 

Ho  tana  WBBBuii  to  cither,  Franda 

Hale, 
The  farmer's  ion,  who  lived  acroBa  the 

bay. 
My  friend :  and  I,  that  Laving  where 

He  fallowlelsure  of  my  life 
K  stone  oC  hera  ftnd  every 

Dldwhat  I  Vouldj  bnt  era  the  olBht 


And  ennntar'd  home  boneatli  a  n 

LUst,  jUBt 

In  creaoeul.  illmlyrrfu'd  Bbout  Che  leaf 
TwUlghtioriHryeilver.tlllweres  '■' 
■I-llBir.iill0(UiBhlllB;  anJaawtiB 
From  rod!  10  rock,  upon  t^s  blooi 

The  town   wm  Lnsh'il   beaeatli 

Tlia  bny  wan  ully  colm  ;  Ibo  Iiartior. 

Sole  amr  of  phoBpboresceuco  Ii 

WIUi    i>ii«    green   eparkla  ever 

Dipt  by  itBelf,  and  wo  were  glad  at 


TO    THE   MAIL, 
glad   I    vralk'd.      How 


s  yon  plantation  where  this  bywaj 

Che  luni pike? 
James.  Tea. 

John.       And  when  does  thlH   oomQ 

Jtimea.  Themall?  At  one o'uloek. 
John.  What  iBltuowI 


Up  hlglier  with  the  ye« 


1  Sir  Edwart 


I  not  broken. 


b  laundh'e. 


But  h 
Joftn.    6,  Ma.    H 

J'lJlKS. 

Vei'd   mltli    B  ml 

That  veil'd  the  wt 

bid  hia  face 
From  nil  uieu,  and  commenlnB  with 

Ho  Inat  the  aenao  that  handleB  daily 


,m-i     NaT  nho  k 

an  1  there' 

,  let  him  go  ;  hia 


WALKING  TO  THE  MAIL. 


61 


And  bristles ;  half  has  f  aU*n  and  made 

a  bridge ; 
And  there  he  caught  the  younker  tick- 
ling trout  — 
Caus^t  \vkfagr<mte  —  what's  the  Latin 

word  ? 
Delicto:  but  his  house,  for  so  they  say. 
Was  haunted  with  a  jolly  ghost,  that 

shook 
The  curtains,  whined  in  lobbies,  tapt 

at  doors, 
And  rummaged  lUce  a  rat :  no  servant 

stay'd : 
The  farmer  Text  packs  up  his  beds  and 

chairs, 
And  all  his  household  stufE ;  and  with 

his  boy 
Betwixt  his  knees,  his  wife  upon  the 

tilt. 
Sets  out,  and  meets  a  friend  who  hails 

him.     "  What ! 
You're  flitting!"    "Yes,  we're  flit- 
ting," says  the  ghost, 
(For  they  had  pack'd  the  thing  among 

the  beds,) 
«*  O  well,"  says  he,  "  you  flitting  with 

us  too— 
Jack,  turn  the  horses'  heads  and  home 

again." 
John,  He  left  his  wife  behind ;  for  so 

I  heard. 
James,  He  left  her,  yes.    I  met  my 

lady  once : 
A  woman  like  a  butt,  and  harsh  as 

crabs. 
John,    O  yet  but  I  remember,  ten 

years  back— 
'Us  now  at  least  ten  years— and  then 

she  was  — 
You  could  not  light  upon  a  sweeter 

thing : 
A  body  slight  and  round,  and  like  a 

pear 
In  growing,  modest  eyes,  a  hand,  a 

foot 
Lessening  in  perfect  cadence,  and  a 

skin 
As  clean  and  white  as  privet  when  it 

flowers. 
James,    Ay,  ay.  the  blossom  fades, 

and  they  that  loved 
At  first  like  dove  and  dove  were  cat 

and  dog. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  cottager. 
Out  of  her  sphere.     What  betwixt 

shame  and  pride, 
New  things  and  old,  himself  and  her, 

she  sour'd 
To  what  she  is :  a  nature  never  kind ! 
Like  men,  like  manners :  like  breeds 

like,  they  say. 
Kind  nature  is  the  best :  those  man- 
ners next 
That  fit  us  like  a  nature  second-hand ; 
Which  are  indeed  the  manners  of  the 

great. 
John,    But  I  had  heard  it  was  this 

bill  that  past. 
And  fear  of  change  at  home,  that 
I       diOTe  him  hence. 


James,  That  was  the  last  drop  in  the 

cup  of  gall. 
I  once  was  near  him*  when  his  bailiff 

brought 
A  Chartist  pike.     You  should  have 

seen  him  wince 
As  from  a  venomous  thing:  he  thought 

himself 
A  mark  for  all,  and  shudder'd,  lest  a  cry 
Should  break  his  sleep  by  night,  and 

his  nice  eyes 
Should  see  the  raw  mechanic's  bloody 

thumbs 
Sweat  on  his  blazon'd  chairs ;  but,  sir, 

you  know 
That  these  two  parties  still  divide  the 

world  — 
Of  those  that  want,  and  those  that 

have :  and  still 
The  same  old  sore  breaks  out  from  age 

to  age 
With  much  the  same  result.    Now  I 

myself, 
A  Tory  to  the  quick,  was  as  a  boy 
Destructive,  when  I  had  not  what  I 

would. 
I  was  at  school— a  college  in  the 

South : 
There  lived  a  flayfliut  near ;  we  stole 

his  fruit. 
His  hens,  his  eggs ;  but  there  was  law 

for  us ; 
We  paid  in  person.  He  had  a  sow,  sir. 

She, 
With  meditative  grunts  of  much  con- 
tent. 
Lay  great  with  pig,  wallowing  in  sun 

and  mud. 
By  night  we  dragg'd  her  to  the  college 

tower 
From  her  warm  bed,  and  up  the  cork- 
screw stair 
With  hand  and  rope  we   haled  the 

groaning  sow. 
And  on  the  leads  we  kept  her  till  Ehe 

pigg'd. 
Large  range  of  prospect  had  the  mother 

sow, 
And  but  for  daily  loss   of  one   she 

loved, 
As  one  by  one  we  took  them  —  but  for 

this  — 
As   never    sow  was  higher    in  this 

world  — 
Might  have  been  happy  :  but  what  lot 

is  pure? 
We  took  them  all,  till  she  was  left 

alone 
Upon  her  tower,  the  Niobe  of  swine, 
And  so  returned  unfarrow'd  to  her  sty. 
John,    They  found  you  out  ? 
James,  Not  they. 

John,  Well  —after  all  ^ 

What  know  we  of  the  secret  of  a  man? 
His  nerves  were  wrong.   What  ails  us, 

who  are  sound. 
That  we  should  mimic  this  raw  fool 

the  world, 
Which  charts  UB  all  iniU  Qo«iX&&\k\M3i&i 

or  whites, 


40 


MORTE  TfARTnVR. 


And  fltng  him  fur  Into   the   ml 

Wiitcli  wluit  Uioujseent,  anil  lightlv 

To  him  replied  'ihe  bold  Sir  Badi- 

"  It  Ib  not  meet,  Sir  King,  to  leave 

Aidless,  alone,  aud  amltleii  tlira' 

A  lillle  thing  may  Imtm  a  woui 

Yet  1  tiiy  heat  will  hU    porform    at 

full. 
Wiiteh  nhat  I  nae,  and  ligLlly  bring 

So  eayjug.  from  the  rnia^d  alirlne  1 

And  In  the  moon  athwart  tba  place  or 

"WTiero  lay  the  mighty  boueaot  antle 

Old  knlihle,  and  aior  them  the  bc 

wluJ  aaiie 
Shrill,  Qhlll.  with  flakea  of  foam.  I) 

By  zig-ZRj;  paths,  and  juts  oC  poltiti 


lake. 


a  the  BhiDlng    1 


Bicollliiir 


forlli  the   lirand 

im,'  drawing  it,  the  winter 

Brlghtenlnc  the  akiria  at  s,  long  cloud. 

And  sparkled  keen  with  Irost  agalnnt 

For  all  the'  hatt  twhikled  with  dlar 

Myrioila  oC  topaz-lights,  and  Jacluth- 

Or  eubtlest  jewellery.     He  gazed  so 

That  both  Ma  cyea  were  doizted,  as  he 

This  way' and  that  dividing  the  swift 

lu  act  to  throw    hnt  at  the  last  it 
iieara'd 

leave  Eicslibuc ; 


id  wnWrfiaiB, 


There  in  Mio  m«ny-k 

Tliat  wlilsiled  atiS  and  dry  a 

So  Btrode  he  !>ack  alow  to  t!io  woundiid 
King. 
Then    siiBke    King  Arthur   <o  Sir 
BcUvero  : 
"  Hast  thou    iierform'd   m;  mission 

which  I  gave? 
What  is  it  thuu  hnat  seen  ?  or  what 
hsat  heard?" 
And    answer   made    the  bold   Sir 

"  1  bearil  the  rippla  washing  In  the 

And  the'wild  water   lapjiing  on  the 

lb  wboui  Implied  King  ArtliBT,  faint 


'  Thoa  heat  betray'd  thy  n; 


t  lief  ai 


T,  and  do  tha  I 

iico.wateh.and  Ughtly  bi 
.ent  Sir  BeOirOFo  the  second 
le  rid^,  and  paifed  beside 
[he  dewy  pebbles,  fix\ 
II  ho  saw  the  wonder  of  the 


f  ind 


ill   I    IM 


Snrely  a  precioua  thing,  one  worthy 

Should  thua  be  lOBt  lorever  Irom  tl 
™th, 
iih  Blight  bars  pleased  the  eyes 

Cgotid  Bbbuld  follow  thlH,  if  tt 


What  harm 
disol 


undone 


IE  olKiUBuce  is  the  bond  of  rule. 
9lt  well  to  obey  then.  If  a  king 

Lct  niiprufltable,  Bgnlnst  hiinsBlf  ? 
King  ia  Blck.and  knows  not  wbai 


>  afcertime,  hnt  empty 


Sayhig.' King  Arthur's  Bn'oi'a,EicBU-    I 
ronglit  by  tbelonely msldenof tha    | 
ight  It.  Bitting  In    I 


llie  lief 


«uru 


uuch  fas 


Tn  all  the  people,  winning  IB 

Sd  spake  lie.  clouiled  wltb  I 
An.lliiilExcnllbnrtlio  second  1- . 


MORTE  D'ARTIWR. 


41 


Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  breathkig 

heayily  : 
**  What  is  it  thou  hast  seen  ?  or  -what 

hast  heard  ?  " 
And    answer    made   the  bold  Sir 

Bedivere  : 
**  I  heard  the  water  lapping  on  the  crag, 
And  the  long  ripple  washing  in  the 

reeds." 
To  whom  replied  King  Arthur,  much 
in  wrath 
"  Ah,  miserable  and  unkind,  untrue, 
Uukiiightly,  traitor-hearted  !  Woe  is 

me  ! 
Authority  forgets  a  dying  king. 
Laid  widow*d  of  the  power  in  his  eye 
That  bow*d  the  will.    I  see  thee  what 

thou  art. 
For  thou,  the  latest-left   of   all  my 

knights. 
In  whom  should  meet  the  offices  of  all, 
Thou  wouldst  betray  me  for  11  lo  pre- 
cious hilt ; 
Either  from  lust  of  gold,  or  like  a  girl 
Yiduing  the  giddy  pleasure   of    the 

eyes. 
Yet,  for  a  man  may  fail  in  duty  twice. 
And  the  third  time  may  prosper,  get 

thee  hence  : 
But,  if  thou  spare  to  fling  Excalibnr, 
I  will  arise  and  slay  thee  with  my 

hands." 
Then  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedivere,  and 

ran, 
And,  leaping  down  the  ridges  lightly, 

plunged 
Among  the  bulrush-beds,  and  clutch'd 

the  sword, 
And  strongly  wheel'd  and  threw  it. 

The  great  brand 
Made   lightnings  in   the  splendor  of 

the  moon, 
And  flashing  round  and  round,  and 

whirled  in  an  arch, 
8hot  like  a  streamer  of  the  northern 

mom, 
Seen  where  the  moving  isles  of  winter 

shock 
By  night,  with  noises  of  the  northern 

sea. 
So  flashed  and  fell  the  brand  Excalibur: 
Butcro  ho  dipt  the  surface,  rose  an 

arm 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  won- 
derful. 
And  caught  him  by  the  hilt,  and  bran- 

•    dish'dhim 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in 

Ithe  mere. 
And  lightly  went  the  other  to  the  King . 
Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  drawing 
thicker  breath : 
**  Now  see  I  by  thine  eyes  that  this  is 
done. 
Speak  out  :  what  is  it  thou  hast  heard 
or  seen  ?  " 
Axid  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedi- 
vere  : 
**Sir  King,  I  closed  mine  eyelids, 
iett  thegema 


Should  blind  my  purpose,  forlneyer 

saw, 
Nor  shall  see,  here  or  elsewhere,  till  I 

die, 
Not  tho*  I  live  three  lives  of  mortal 

men. 
So  great  a  miracle  as  yonder  hilt. 
Then  with  both  hands  I  flung  him, 

wheeling  him  ; 
But  when  I  look'd  again,  behold  an 

arm. 
Clothed    in    white    samite,   mystic, 

wonderful, 
That  caught  him   by   the   hilt,    and 

brandished  him ; 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in 

the  mere.** 
And    answer    made   King  Arthur, 
breathing  hard  : 
"  My  end  draws  nigh  ;  'tis  time  that  I 

were  gone. 
Make  broad  thy  shoulders  to  receive 

my  weight. 
And  bear  me  to  the  margin;  yet  I 

fear 
My  wound  hath  taken  cold,  and  I  shall 

die." 
So  saving,  from  the  pavement  he 

hall  rose, 
Slowly,  with  pain,    reclining  on  his 

arm. 
And  looking  wistfully  with  wide  blue 

eyes 
As  in  a  picture.    Him  Sir  Bedivere 
Remorsefully  regarded  thro'  his  tearji. 
And  would  have  spoken,  but  he  found 

not  words, 
Then  took  with  care,  and  kneeling  on 

one  knee, 
0*er  both  his  shoulders  drew  the  lan- 
guid hands, 
Ana  rising  bore  him  thro*  the  place  of 

tombs. 
But,  as  he  walk'd.    King  Arthur 

panted  hard. 
Like  one  that  feels  a  nightmare  on  his 

bed 
When  all  the  house  is  mute.  So  sigh'd 

the  King, 
Muttering  and  murmuring  at  his  ear, 

**  Quick,  quick  ! 
I  fear  it  is  too  late,  and  I  shall  die." 
But  the   other  swiftly   strode   from 

ridge  to  ridge. 
Clothed  with  his  breath,  and  looking, 

as  he  walk'd. 
Larger  than  human  on  the  frozen  hills. 
He  heard  the  deep  behind  him,  and  a 

cry 
Before.    His  own  thought  drove  him 

like  a  goad. 
Dry  clash'd  his  harness  in  the  ley  caves 
And  barren  chasms,  and  all  to  left  and 

right 
The  bare  black  cliff  clang*d  round  him, 

as  he  based 
His  feet  on  juts  of  slippery  cia^lhaX 

rang 
Sharp-emltten  with  the  CiVnX.  ol  anxx!^ 

heels— 


ST.  SIJtEON  STYLITES. 


WMIe  (liB  jold-UIf  blows,  oiul  o' 
Th«  liyht  clnuiiiinoiililenon  theHi 


For  troops  c[  dcvila,  mad  kLlIi  blaa- 

I  will  not  veue  to  ctbbp  tlie  liupal 

bald 
OI  BatuMom,  aud  to  clHinor,  mouiD 

Bulterlng  I'he  gativ  of  lioaicn   witli 

Hare  men;)',  lord,  and  lake  away  my 

Let  Lliia  aTaIl,]usl,  dreadful,  mlgbtr 

TblaiialbeoUlnviiin,  Umt  tlulce  t»u 

Tbiice   liinlilplleil    by    euperbuman 

In  liuiieeia  and  In  tMrate,  levers  and 

lu  eouglis,  npliea,    etltobeg,  nleeroua 

A  slEn  betwixt  tbti  meadow  and  tbe 


And  I  bad  jiopud  tbat  ei 
Tbou  nouldat  bure  caugl 


O  tahu  tbu  meaning,  Lord  :  I  do  uot 

ware  aOll 
Leia  burden,  b;   Icn-bundred-IoM,  to 

1111111  were  tboie  lend-lllts  ioia  ot  Bin, 

My  eplrltllacbcfoi 

Tbou  JinDweBt  I  bo 

Foe  I  will  Btrone  and  bale  ot  body  tbon ; 
And  tbo-  uiy  teetb,  wMdi  now   ore 

diopt  away, 
liVonld  duLtter  with  tba  cold,  and  all 

my  beanl 
Was  tagg'd  witli   I17  [lingci  In  Uio 

I  drown'5  tba  wbooplnge  of  tbe  owl 

with  sound 
OIplonsbyiuuBand  paalnis,  Bnil  some- 

An  angel  suuidaail  watch  me,  tuil»ims. 


Now  am   I  fBeblo  j 
1  hope  uiy  eud  diawe  > 


And  both  my  tblgbi 

Tc(  coasa  1  not  to  c 
While   my   BtiS  spl 


Igii:  haltdBBfl  I 

hoar  ilie  poopio  J 

uize  tbe  Scldi  I 
am  rolled  wllb  | 
mor  Bii.1  to 


I'illuUniy  ilmliB  drop  ploeemeal  troni   | 

Have  luercyi  mercy  :  lake  away  11 

O  JeaoB,  If  thou  wilt  not  aave  11 

'Who  may  besaved  ?  nholBlt  may  bs  I 

Who  may' bo  made  a  Balr.t,  If  I  fall    I 
here  7  ' 

Show  mo  tbe  man  bath  suffor'd  mors 

Tor  illii  not  all  tliy  martyrs  dieons 

draUi  ■/ 
For  either  Ihej  were  atoned,  or  trucl- 

Or  hiiiu'd  In  fire,  or  boil'd  in  oil,  sr 

In  twnin  beneath  the  ribs  ;  but  I  die 

To-dny,  and  whole  years  long,  alKenr 

Bear  wltiiesa,  iC  I  could  bare  found 


<   ihU    I 


The 


borBibutwhllelflTtiil    I 

that  haled  Uie  Wkela  In 

Twisted  aa  'tight  aa  I  could  knot  tha    I 

And  Bpako  not  of  It  to  a  ringla  aonl. 
Until  the  uleer,  ealiug  thio'^my  ak^ 
BBtmv'd  my  Booret  penance,  ao  tbk 

Zkly  brethren  marvell'd  greatly.    Uuia    I 

I  bore,  whereof,  O  God,  thou  know 

Tliieu  vriuton,  that  my  soul  ndght    I 

I  lived  Bi>  there  on  yondar  moui 

My  right  leg  chalii'd  tiiloUiei;i 


ST.  aTMEOir  STTLITES, 


55 


InswBthed    Bometimes  in   wandering 

mist,  Olid  twice 
Black*d  with  tliy  branding  thunder, 

and  sometimes 
Sacking  the  damps  for  driul;,  and  eat- 
ing not, 
Except  the  spare  chance-gift  of  those 

that  came 
To  touch  my  body  and  be  heal'd,  and 

live  : 
And  they  say  then  that  I  work'd 

miracles, 
TVhereof    my   fame  is  loud  amongst 

mankind, 
Cured     lameness,     palsies,    cancers. 

Thou,  O  God, 
Knowest  alone  whether  this  was  or 

no« 
Have  mercy,  mercy  ;  cover  all  my  sin. 
Then,  that  I  might  be  more  alone 

with  tliee, 
Three  years  I  lived  upon  a  pillar,  high 
Six  cubits,  and  three  years  on  one  oj! 

twelve  ; 
And  twice  three  years  I  crouch*d  on 

one  that  rose 
Twenty  by  measure ;  last  of  all,  I  grow 
Twice  ten  long  weary  years  to  tin  •«, 
That   numbers  forty  cubits  from  the 

soil. 
I  think  that  I  have  bomo  as  much  as 

this— 
Or  else  I  dream— and  for  so  loncj  a  time, 
If  I  may  measure  timo  by  you  blow 

light. 
And  wiis  high  dial,  which  my  sorrow 

crowns- 
So  much — even  so. 

And  yet  I  know  not  well, 
For  that  the  evil  ones  come  here,  and 

say, 
"  Fall    down,  O  Simeon  :   thou  liast 

8uffer*d  long 
For  ages  and  for  ages  !  "  then  they 

prate 
Of  penances  I  cannot  have  gone  thro'. 
Perplexing   me   with  lies  :  and  oft  I 

fall, 
Maybe   for    months,   in    such  blind 

lethargies, 
That  Heaven,  and  Earth,  and  Timo 

are  choked. 

But  yet 
Bethink  thee.  Lord,  while  thou  and'all 

the  saints 
Enjoy  themselves  in  heaven,  and  men 

on  earth 
House  in  the  shade  of  comfortable 

roofs, 
Sit  with  their  wives  by  fires,  eat  whole- 
some food, 
And  wear  warm  clothes,  and  even 

'  beasts  have  stalls, 
I,  'tween  the  spring  and  downfall  of 

the  light, 
Bow  down   one    thousand  and  two 

hundred  tbnes, 
Tb  Christ,  the  Virgin  Mother,  and  the 

Saints ; 
Or  iu  the  ui<iht,  after  a  little  sleep. 


I  wake  :  the  chill  stars  sparkle  ;  I  am 

wet 
With  drenching  dews,  or  still  with 

crackling  frost. 
I  wear  an  undress'd  {joatskin  on  my 

back  ; 
A  grazing  iron  collar  erinds  my  neck  ; 
And  in  my  weak,  lean  arms  I  life  iho 

cross, 
And  strive  and  wrestle  with  thee  till  J 

die: 

0  mercy,  mercy  !  wash  away  my  sin. 
O  Lx>rd,  thou  knowest  what  a  man  I 

am  ; 
A  sinful  man,  conceived  and  bom  in 

sin  : 
*Tis  their  own  doing ;  this  is  none  of 

mine ; 
Lay  it  not  to  me.    Am  I  to  blame  tot 

this, 
That  here  come  those  that   worship 

me  ?  Ha !  ha  ! 
They  think  that  I  am  somewhat.  What 

ami? 
The  silly  people  take  mo  for  a  saint, 
And  bring  me  offerings  of  fruit  and 

11  o  were: 
And  I,  iu  truth  (thou  wilt  bear  witness 

here) 
Have  all  in  all  endured  as  much,  and 

more 
Thau  many  just  and  holy  men,  whose 

names 
Are   register'd    and    calendar'd    for 

saints. 
Good  people,  you  do  ill  to  kneel  to 

me. 
WLa!;  is  it  I  can  have  dono  to  merit 

this  ? 

1  am  a  sinner  viler  than  you  all. 

It  may  be  1  have  wrought  some  mira- 
cles, 
And  cured  some  halt  and  maim'd ;  but 

what  of  that? 
It  may  be,  no   one,  even  among  the 

saints, 
May  match  his  pains  with  mine ;  but 

what  of  that  ? 
Yet  do  not  rise  ;  for  you  may  look  on 

me. 
And  in  your  looking  you  may  kneel  to 

God. 
Speak !   is  there  any  of  yon  halt  or 

maim'd  ? 
I  think  you  know  I  have  some  power 

with  Heaven 
From  my  long  penance :  let  him  speak 

his  wish. 
Yes,  I  can  heal  him.    Power  goes 

forth  from  me. 
They  say  that  they  are  heaVd.    Ah, 

hark' !  they  shout 
**St.  Simeon  Stylites."    Why,  if  ho, 
God  reaps  a  harvest  in  me.  O  my  soul, 
God  reaps  a  harvest  in  thee.  If  this  be, 
Can  I  work  mimcles  and  not  be  saved  ? 
This  is  not  told  of  any.    They  were 

saints. 
It  camiot  be  but  that  I  a\ia\\\iei  l«cjfe^\ 
Yea,   crown'd  a  samt.    'IVie's  litioxss 


THE  TALKING  OAK. 


UoujBjje,  SI.  SiuiBOU  I  TMs  au 
Ciacka  into  ehinliig  wingi,  k 

1  dirj^ 

iijhope 

Spruds  inure  anrl  move  and  lu 

ore,  Uiai 

3pongeiI  an.l  uiula  lilauk  of 

frimpful 

MyuwUlBTEUveg. 

bLylilei,  omou^iueii:  I,  Simpi 

'nie  vrticliBt  on  tint  to 


t-hooa  bmlu  Uie  suiijeliiiie 
iH  lialdbTovBln^Ienthuun  be- 


ll noslnnillT  hoar  with  ilme,  do  noir 
From  n^  liJgh  ueal  ol  pv^;aui:o  bere 

ThaiPoiiiius  nndlKBriothr  my  aide 
Sbuvr'd  like  ttXc  teraplit.  ui>  Uie  uoala 

I  lay, 
A  iKStA  full  o(  lln  :  aU  hell  bencaUi 
Uada  IDS  bull  oTor.  DevUs  iilnck'd  my 


lunaiMlAimodeii. 


lu  bed  like  mcmstroua  apea  they 
Tliey  JIapp'd  iny  ligUlout  on  I  read:  I 
Their  facee  grow  between  nui  mid  my 

Wth  eoltllike  whiuny  and  wilb  hog- 

Rlshiihliia 
They  burnt  luy  pmyBr.    Yet  Ihia  way 

wFiB  left, 
>;  tliiii  way  I  'neaped  tbem.  Mor^ 


Bmll«.  Ebriiik  not,  Biura  uot.     U  It 

Whole   Loi'its,    and  pray.     I  liariily, 

vrllhalow  steiM, 
TTItliRlnw.  Caliit  steps,  and  miieh  ei- 

TTUTe  ecTBjnblfhl  past  UiDse  pitaof  fire, 

that  still 
Sing  In  mine  eon.    But  yield  not  ma 

God  oolylbm' bli  bouiitj  halh  Ihought 

Among  Iho  poff  era  and  prineea  of  this 

V-hlPbfuw  can  reach  to.    Yctldoiiot 


^ 


'0  oiy  rellca  in  your  laud. 


Wbi 


I  yon  may  carve  a  ahrine  aboui  n^fl 
1  hiiin  a  fraerant  lamp  Iiefore  mji  ^l 
■"imK*"  ^"'^'"'^  "*  "">  glocioiiB  fl 
e  Uien,  a  sling  of  ■ 
i*riV,Jui.s°lJiro'  me,  ajid  S  cloud^l 


thick 
TheM  heayy,  homy  oyea.     The  endlj 

Surely  the  end  I  ^Iliat'B  here  ?  aitaapa 

A  aosh  of 'light.     Ib  that 

That  hold!  a  crown?  Com 

Iknow  thy  glUturbig  face.    laaltcdj 

My  brow'a  aro  ready,    TVlial 

Irnw.  draw  iitgli.     So  I  F 


clutch  ft.    Cl.flFi 
!  guiie  :  '11b  here  agi^  i  Uie  crown  I 

U>B  crrown  I 
now  'tlB  flttcd  on  at  " 


loCpank 


Ah!  let  me  uot 

That  I  am  wholf 
fnr  Heaven. 

God,' 
AniouK  you  the 

A  ppreat'h.  a 


ool-d,, 


lleiL 


clean,  and  m 
\  ladder  oi 


And  cliaibine  np  into  niT  airy  home, 
Deliver  me  the  blessed  niK-ratuvnt  -. 
Tot  by  the  warniiin  o(  the  Holy  Ghost, 
I  prophMy  that  1  shall  die  M  iilidit, 
A  quarter  before  twelve. 

Bntlhou,  OLonl. 
Aid  all  UilB  foolish  peuple  ;  lo(  tluun 


xoniplo,  pattern ;  lead  them  b 
llBht. 

THE  TALKIXG  OAK. 

we  the  niouhler'd  Abbey-walla, 
Tliui  etand  within  the  cliace. 

.  -aldell^ifflfojeg 

when  my  paaeion  flnt  benn, 

love,  that  maKei  me  tlirice  a  mi 
inhl  hope  Itself  retuiu-d  i 


Ihy 


BaueathitBdrittoCsi 


THE  TALKING  OAK. 


bl 


h 


And  with  a  larger  faith  appeaVd 
Thaii  Papist  uuto  Saint. 

For  oft  I  talk'd  with  him  apart, 
And  told  him  of  my  choice, 

Until  he  plagiarized  a  heart, 
And  answer'd  with  a  voice. 

Tho*  what  he  whispered,  under  Heaven 
None  else  could  understand ; 

I  found  him  garrulously  given, 
A  babbler  in  the  land. 

But  since  I  heard  him  make  reply 

Is  many  a  weary  hour : 
•Twere  well  to  question  nim,  and  try 

If  yet  he  keeps  the  power. 

Hail,  hidden  to  the  knees  in  fern, 
Broad  Oak  of  Sumner-chace, 

Whose  topmost  branches  can  discern 
The  roofs  of  Sumuer-place  ! 

Say  thou,  whereon  I  carved  her  name, 

If  ever  maid  or  spouse, 
As  fair  as  my  Olivia,  came 

To  rest  beneath  thy  boughs. — 

••  O  Walter,  I  have  shelter'd  here 

Whatever  maiden  grace 
The  good  old  Summers,  year  by  year 

Miule  ripe  in  Sumner-chace  : 

**Old  Summers,  when  the  monk  was 
fat. 

And,  issuing  shorn  and  sleek, 
Would  twist  his  girdle  tight,  aud  pat 

The  girls  upon  the  cheek, 

•*  Ere  yet,  in  scorn  of  Peter*8-i>ence, 
And  nuraber'd  bead,  and  shrift. 

Bluff  Harry  broke  into  the  spence, 
And  turn'd  the  cowls  adrift : 

"  And  I  have  seen  some  score  of  those 
Fresh  faces,  that  would  thrive 

When  his  nian-niinded  offset  rose 
To  chase  the  deer  at  five  ; 

^And  all  that  from  the  town  would 
stroll. 

Till  that  wild  wind  made  work 
In  which  the  gloomy  brewer's  soul 

Went  by  me,  like  a  stork  : 

**The  slight  she-slips  of  loyal  blood, 

And  otners,  passing  praise, 
Strait-laced,  but  all-too-full  in  bud 

For  puritanic  stays : 

**  And  I  have  shadow'd  many  a  group 

Of  beauties,  that  were  bom 
III  teacup-times  of  hood  and  hoop, 

Or  while  the  patch  was  worn ; 

''And,  leg  and  arm  with  love-knots 

out  me  leap*d  and  laugh'd 
The  modest  Cupid  of  the  day, 
And  shriird  his  tinsel  shut. 

"  I  ewear  (and  else  may  insects  prick 

Eadi  leaf  into  a  gall) 
This  girl,  for  whom  your  heart  is  sick, 

If  mree  times  worth  them  all ; 

*  For  thoee  and  theirs,  by  Nature's  law, 

Have  faded  long  ago ; 
Bat  in  these  latter  springs  I  saw 

Your  own  OliTla  blow^ 


'*From    when  shegamboird  on  the 
spreens, 

Ababy-germ,  to  when 
The  maiden  blossoms  of  her  teens 

Could  number  live  from  ten. 

"  I  swear,  by  leaf,  and  wind,  and  rain, 
(And  hear  me  with  thine  ears,) 

That,  tho'  1  circle  in  the  grain 
Five  hundred  rings  of  years. 

"  Yet,  since  I  first  could  cast  a  shade, 

Did  never  creature  pass 
So  slightly,  musically  made* 

So  light  upon  the  grass : 

"For  as  to  fairies,  that  will  flit 
To  make  the  greensward  fresh, 

I  hold  them  exquisitely  knit, 
But  far  too  spare  of  fiesh.'* 

O,  hide  thy  knotted  knees  in  fern, 

Aud  overlook  the  chace  ; 
And  from  thy  topmost  branch  discern 

The  roofs  of  Sumuer-place. 

But  thou,  whereon  I  carved  her  name, 
That  oft  hast  heard  my  vows, 

Declare  when  last  Olivia  camo 
To  sport  beneath  tiiy  boughs. 


«i 


0  yesterday,  you  know,  the  fair 
Was  holden  at  the  town  ; 

His  father  left  his  good  arm-chair. 
And  rode  his  hunter  down. 

**  And  with  him  Albert  came  on  his, 

1  look'd  at  him  with  joy  : 
As  cowslip  untooxlip  is. 

So  seenia^she  to  the  boy. 

<*An   hour  had    past— and,  sitting 
straight 

Within  the  low-wheeVd  chaise. 
Her  mother  trundled  to  the  gate 

Behind  the  dappled  grays. 


*( 


But,  as  for  her,  she  stay'd  at  home, 
And  on  tlie  roof  she  went. 
And  down  the  way  you  used  to  come, 
She  look'd  with  discontent. 

"  She  left  the  novel  half-uncut 

Upon  the  rosewood  shelf ; 
She  left  the  new  piano  shut : 

She  could  not  please  herself. 

**  Then  ran  she,  gamesome  as  the  colt. 

And  livelier  than  a  lark 
She  sent  her  voice  thro'  all  the  holt 

Before  her,  and  the  park. 

**  A  light  wind  chased  her  on  the  wing, 
And  ill  the  chtise  grew  wild, 

As  close  as  might  be  would  ho  cling 
About  the  darling  child : 

"  But  light  as  any  wind  that  blows 
•   So  fleetly  did  she  stir, 
The  flower,  she  touch'd  on,  dipt  aud 
rose, 
And  tum*d  to  look  at  her. 

'*Aud  here  she  came,  aud  round  me 
play'd. 

And  sang  to  me  the  whole 
Of  those  three  slaniaft  l\\a\.  '^oxltsaAa 

About  my  '  giaiW.  boV©  \* 


THE  TALKING  OAK. 


'•  And  III 

Sliestn 
Alas,  I  wi 


fit  ot  fiolla  TDtrth 
1 »  broad  ofefiiii. 


TLatliBro  beside  muBiaiulB, 
TliAt  loutiil  me,  cIsspiiiB  csch  in  cadii 

SliBmlgbt  have  look'il  her  liaiitlB- 
"Yot  eeeiD'd  Uie  pieaaare   lUiice  us 

Ah  noodblne's  ftagtlo  hold, 

TliB  ban'lod  bclouy  tolU." 
O  mulBo  TOuiKi  thj  kiioei  Willi  lem. 


Long  niiijr  thy  lopnioi 

Tha  roofs  ul  Siuniier-place  I 
SnC  tflll  ms,  did  aha  reul  tlia  iiama 

"Whoii  iDSt  with  Uirabblng  liQiirt  I  came 

To  mt  beuvBtli  thy  bouelu  ■' 
•"OrBs.BhowandHr'd  round nnd  rouii J 

And  Couiid,  Biid  kisii'd  Ihn  iibdiq  aba 
fonnd. 
And  Bwaetlj  muiniQr'd  Ulllio- 
•■  A  tenrdrop  tniinbled  f  roni  lis  aourco 

Ut  bsiisb  of  touch  ia  soinethhig  coaiEo, 

But  I  beUevB  aho  wept, 
"nienfloah'dher  cheek  with  roay  llghi, 

Sha  glnnccd  ncmas  tha  plliln ; 
But  not  a  ereatui-e  was  hi  aight : 

She  klBB'd  mi)  once  Bgain- 
"  Her  klues  isaa  so  close  and  kind, 


Llko  Ihnw  blind  mMlons  of  the  Sprin  e. 

That  ahow  the  year  la  luru'd. 
"  Thrlce-happy  lie  tliat  may  careaa 

The  riiiKlofe  iviiTiiig  balm— 
Tba  uualilonB  urwlitwo  tonrbinBy  press 

The  maldaii'a  lender  palm. 
"  I,  molBd  here  amone  the  grovea. 

But  lauHi'ldlT  sdjuat 
Hy  T»pid  i-fBBtablo  Iotm 
^Vith  authan  and  vltli  dn>t ; 
"  For  nh  l  my  (rtoud,  the  daya  were 
brief 

Whereof  the  poeta  talk, 
TVhen  that,  which  hrualhea  wlthlii  the 
laaf, 

Could  slip  Its  bark  and  walk. 
"  But  could  I.  BB  111  Ibnea  foroaono. 

From  Bpray,  and  branch,  aiiil  BLcm, 
Have  auckM  niid  nather'd  into  one 

Tlie  life  thai  sprosda  in  ihem, 
"Slieliadnot 


li.  with  laatj  towera, 

}\  Iha  lea. 

™a  amona  the  bowon^ 


t,  UredoutwlUinl 


■  Her  cyeltdi  diDpp'd  theli 
I  hi'eathed  upon  her  cyea 


"ButlnapetBheatiirtcd  nn. 

And  pluck'd  II  out,  and  drew 
Hy  Utile  oskUiig  from  the  Flip, 

And  flung  blm  lu  the  dew. 
"  And  yet  tt  wu  a  nmcelnl  clft-- 

Ifelf  nponKwllhln 
As  nlien  I  aea  the  woodman  lift 

His  nxo  to  slay  my  kiu. 
"1  ^ook  himdownhecansehewia 

The  Itne.t  on  tbo  tree. 
Ho  Ilea  bcai  Jo  ihoe  on  the  ffran, 

"  O  klBB  him  twice  and  IlidcafoinM 
That  have  no  lips  to  ki?B, 

Shall  grew  so  Cidi'  as  thia." 
Step  deeper  yet  In  herb  and  fort, 


The  front  of  Sun 
Thn 


ivardUU  thyhotiEhadl 


-idt  of  (Une  by  I.otc  ia  bleat. 


Whore  lalrer  fruit  of  I«in 

Some  lioppy  f atiire  day. 
I  kiss  it  twice,  I  klaa  It  Ihrlce, 

Tlio  warmth  it  thoneeahall 
To  riper  life  may  maguetiao 

The  baby-oak  wlthlii. 
But  thou,  wblle  kingdoms  on. 

Or  lapae  [torn  hand  Co  huid. 


on 


LOVE  AND  DUTY. 


60 


Thy  leaf  shall  never  fail,  nor  yet 
Thine  aconi  iu  the  laud. 

May  never  saw  dismember  thee. 

Nor  wielded  axe  disjoint, 
That  art  the  fairest-spoken  tree 

From  here  to  Lizard-point. 

O  rock  upon  thy  towery  top 
All  throats  that  gurgle  sweet ! 

All  starry  culmination  drop 
Balm-dews  to  bathe  thy  feet ! 

All  grass  of  silky  feather  grow— 
And  while  he  sinks  or  swells 
B     The  full  south  breeze  around  thee  blow 
l^e  sound  of  minster  bells. 

The  fat  earth  feed  thy  branchy  root, 
That  under  deeply  strikes ! 

The  northern  morning  o'er  thee  shoot. 
High  up,  in  silver  spikes ! 

Kor  ever  lightning  char  thy  grain, 

But,  rollnig  as  in  sleep. 
Low  tnunders  bring  the  mellow  rain, 

That  midces  thee  oroad  and  deep  1 

And  hear  me  swear  a  solemn  oath, 

That  only  by  thy  side 
THll  I  to  Olive  plight  my  troth. 

And  gain  her  for  my  bilde. 

And  when  my  marriage  morn  may  fall, 
She,  Dryad-like,  shall  wear 

Alternate  leaf  and  acorn- ball 
In  wreath  about  her  hair. 

And  I  will  work  in  prose  and  rhyme, 
And  praise  thee  more  in  both 

Than  bard  has  honored  beech  or  lime, 
Or  that  Thessalian  growth. 

In  which  the  swarlhy  ringdove  sat. 

And  mystic  sentence  spoke  ; 
And  more  than  Englandhonors  that, 
'    Thy  famous  brother-oak, 

"Wherein  the  younger  Charles  abode 
Till  all  the  paths  were  dim. 

And  fnr  below  the  Roundhead  rode. 
And  hummed  a  surly  hymn. 


LOVE    AND    DUTY. 

Of  love  that  never  found  his  earthly 
close, 

"What  sequel?  Streaming  eyes  and 
breaking  hearts  ? 

Or  nil  the  same  as  if  he  liad  not  been  ? 
Not  so.  Shall  Error  iu  the  round  of 
time 

Still  father  Truth?  O  shall  the  brag- 
gart shout 

For  some  blind  glimpse  of  freedom 
work  itself 

Thro*  madness,  hated  by  the  wise,  to 
law 

System  and  empire?  Sin  itself  be 
fonnd 

The  cloudy  porch  oft  opening  on  the 
Son? 

And  only  he,  this  wonder,  dead,  be- 
come 

Here  hii^way  dost?  or  year  by  year 


t- 


Sit  brooding  in  the  ruins  of  a  life, 
Nightmare  of  youth,  the  specti'e  of 

himself? 
If  this  were  thus,  if  this,  indeed, 

were  all, 
Better  the  narrow  brain,  the  stony 

heart, 
The  staring  eye  glazed  o'er  with  sap- 
less days, 
The  long  mechanic  pacings  to  and  fro, 
The  set  gray  life,  and  apathetic  end.  • 
But  am  I  not  the  nobler  thro'  thy  love? 
O  three  times  less  unworthy  I  likewitio 

thou 
Art  more  thro*  Love,  and  greater  than 

thy  yeai-8. 
The  Sun  will  run  his  orbit,  and  the 

Moon 
Her  circle.    Wait,  and  Love  himself 

will  bring 
The  drooping  flower  of    knowledge 

changed  to  fruit 
Of  wisdom.    Wait :  my  faith  is  large 

in  Time, 
And  that  which  shapes  it  to  some  per- 
fect end. 
Will  some  one  say.  Then  why  not  ill 

for  good  ? 
Why  took  ye  not  your  pastime?    To 

that  man 
My  work  shall  answer,  since  I  knew 

the  right 
And  did  it ;  for  a  man  is  not  as  God, 
But  then  most  Godlike  being  most  a 

man. 
—  So  let  me  think  'tis  well  for  thee 

and  me— 
Ill-fated  that  I  am.  what  lot  is  mine 
Whose  foresight  preaches  peace,  my 

heart  so  slow 
To  feel  it !    For  how  hard  it  seem'd  to 

me. 
When  eyes,  love-languid  thro*  half- 

tears,  would  dwell 
One  earnest,  earnest  moment  upon 

mine. 
Then  not  to  dare  to  see !  when  thy  low 

voice. 
Faltering,  would  break  its  syllables,  to 

keep 
My  own  full-tuned,—  hold  passion  in  a 

leash. 
And  not  leap  forth  and  fall  about  thy 

neck, 
And  on  thy  bosom,  (deep-desired  re- 
lief !) 
Bain  out  the  heavy  mist  of  tears,  that 

weigh*d 
Upon  my  brain,  my  senses  and  my 

soul ! 
For  love  himself  took  part  against 

himself 
To  warn  us  off,  and  Duty  loved  of 

Love— 
O  this  world's    curse,  —  beloved  but 

hated  —  came 
Like  Death  betwixt  thy  dear  emhtVAA 

and  mine, 
And  crying, "  Wlioisth\&?  "^wJiaoWtiKS 
bride,*' 


THE  GOLDEN  YEAR. 


She  punh'd  ma  [ram  tbee. 


liiotipeakuitlieie— 
itUtEiTiclClHiiie: 


IhiLBS-    , 
AudalLgotNllMnKB  ti 


Uiat  bring  113  all 
'11,  brought 


iit.tEatliollow'aalldie 
s  by  Uie  ^CHnilug  of  au 
>ou  ila  object  tiito*  Buch 


To  Iboge  ciu'eBees,   wliei 
In  tbai  laat  kiss,  whiuii : 

Farewell,  like  entlless  •* 

and  >ilBd. 
Then  (ullow'tl  coansel, 

the  words 


:e  rase  way 


Liubt ;  llie  BUiomec  iilgbt, 


In  line  Willi  rry  nf  paulOM  uml 

Cauglii  up  the  whole    t>(    lo 

And  bade  adl'eu  [or  ewt. 

Ll»e  —  ye 
Shall  Rhsrpeiil  imUios  bllgbt  ut 

Life  iieedH  far  life  is  poesibie  U 
Live  hapiiy  \   lend   thy  dowc 

My  blcHii'B  r  Rhoulil  my  Sluhl< 

Too  sadly  tor  tliBir  peace,  rer 

For  CRlmer  houni  Ui  Memory> 

l/aat  to  be  forgotten  — not  at 


forgotten.    Should  tt  ci 


Far?mTo»h? 
Bej-ond  " 


a  burden  from  thr 

list  low  matlD-chirp 

morning  driY'n  her 

o  light  the  mounded 

fair  gcecn  field  and  eaiCern 


I 


THE  OOLDEN  TEAR. 
Weli.,  you  Fholl  Mve  Ihut  aong  which 


hutnpwilUluhlm. 
t  In  his  leveroui 


"Bui  1  wm  born 

^o 

ate :    Iho  fair 

That  doat  about  lb 

B  tl 

iteshold  o(  an 

cirSir™". 

Id 

wailUg  to  ho 
nakelhecauih- 
elDck.     Lei  H 

But  if  you  earo  indeed 

I'beia  uielBUrL-d    wotJ 

o  liBloii.  heat 

'■  1v^1l™p™i,d  wake  and  sleep,  bol 
all  IbiMGS  move ; 
The  Sun  flies  forward  to  hla  btolhei 

The  <larSc  Earth  [oil 

w> 

wheofd  lu  hn 

ULYSSES. 


Gl 


And  hmnan  things  returning  on  them- 
selves 
Move  onward,  leading  up  the  golden 
year. 
"  Ah,  tho*  the  times,  when  some  new 
thought  can  bud. 
Are  but  as  poets'  seasons  when  they 

flower, 
Tet  seas,  that  daily  gain  upon  the 

shore. 
Have  ebb  and  flow  conditioning  their 

march. 
And  slow  and  sure  comes  up  the  gold- 
en year. 
**  When  wealth  no  more  shall  rest  in 
mounded  heaps. 
But  smit  with  freer  light  shall  slowly 

melt 
In  many  streams  to  fatten  lower  lands. 
And  light  shall  spread,  and  man  be 

liker  man 
Thro'  all  the  season  of  the  golden  year. 
"  Shall  eagles  not  be  eagles  ?  wreus 
be  wrens  ? 
If  all  the  world  were  falcons,  what  of 

that? 
The  wouderof  the  eagle  were  the  less. 
But  he  not  less  the  eagle.  Happy  days 
Bojl  onward,  leading  up  the  golden 
year. 
"Fly,  happy  happy  sails  and  bear 
the  Press  J 
Fly  happy  with  the  mission   of  the 

Cross; 
Knit  land  to  land*  and  blowing  haven- 
ward 
With  silks,  and  fruits,  and  spices,  clear 

of  toll, 
£nrich  the  markets  of  the  golden  year. 
**  But  we    grow    old.      Ah  !    when 
shall  all  men's  good 
Be  each  man's  rule,  and  universal 

Peace 
JAe  like  a  shaft  of  light  across  the 

land. 
And  like  a  lane  of  beams  athwart  the 

Thro'   all  the  circle  of  the    golden 

year?" 
Thus   far   he   flow'd,    and   ended; 

whereupon 
"  Ahy  folly ! "  in  mimic  cadence  an- 

swer*d  James — 
••  Ah,  folly  !  for  it  lies  so  far  away, 
Kot  in  our  time,  nor  in  our  childien's 

time, 
*Tis  like  the  second  world  to  us  that 

live ; 
Twere  all  as  one  to  fix  our  hopes  on 

Heaven 
As  on  this  vision  of  the  golden  year.'* 
With  that  he  struck  his  staff  against 

the  rocks 
And  broke  it,— James,— you  know  him, 

—old,  but  full 
Of  force  and  choler,  and  firm  upon  his 

feet, 
And  like  an  oaken  stock  in  winter 

woods, 
C^6Kfloiiilsh'd  with  the  hoaijcieaiAtis;  / 


Then  added,  all  in  heat : 

"What  stuff  is  this! 
Old  writers  push'd  the  happy  season 

back,— 
The   more   fools   they, — we  forward : 

dreamers  both : 
You  most,  that  in  an  age,  when  every 

hour 
Must  sweat  her  sixty  minutes  to  tho 

death, 
Live  on,  God  love  us,  as  if  the  seeds- 
man, rapt 
Upon  the  teeming  harvest,  should  not 

plunge 
His  hand  into  the  bag  :  but  well  I  know 
That  unto  him  who  works,  and  feels 

he  works. 
This  same  grand  year  is  ever  at  the 

doors." 
He  spoke:  and,  high  above,  I  heard 

them  blast 
The  steep  slate-quarry,  and  the  great 

echo  flap 
And  bulTet  round  the  hills  from  bluff 

to  bluff. 


ULYSSES. 

It  little  profits  that  an  idle  king. 
By  this  still  hearth,  among  these  bar- 
ren crags, 
Matc'h'd  with  an  aged  wife,  I  mete  and 

dole 
Unequal  laws  unto  a  pavafje  race, 
That  hoard,  and  sleep,  and  feed,  and 

know  not  me 
I  cannot  rest  from  travel :  I  will  drink 
Life  to  the  lees :  all  times  1  have  en- 

jov'd 
Greaily,  have  suffer'd   greatly,  both 

with  those 
That  loved  me,  and  alone ;  on  shore, 

and  when 
Thro'  scudding  diifts  the  rainy  Hyades 
Vext  the   dim  sea:   I  am  become  a 

name ; 
For  always  roaming  with  a  hungry 

heart 
Much  have  I  seen  and  known ;  cities 

of  men 
And  manners,  climates,  councils,  gov- 
ernments, 
Myself  not  least,  but  honor'd  of  them 

all; 
And  drunk  delight  of  battle  with  my 

peers, 
Far  on  the  ringing  plains  of  windy 

Troy. 
I  am  a  part  of  all  that  I  have  met ; 
Yet  all  experience  is  an  arch  where- 

thro' 
Gleams  that  nntravell'd  world,  whose 

margin  fades 
For  ever  and  for  ever  when  I  move. 
How  dull  it  is  to  pause,  to  make  an  end, 
To  rust  unburmsh'd,  not  to  shine  iu 

use! 
As  tho'  to  breathe  vireiQ  M,^*  IMa 
piled  on  life 


Bternal  EilencGi  Aomething 


follow  kcMrledee  like  a  linliltig 
fond'  the  ntmoBt  boniid  ciC  hum] 
:hlB   &   liiy   Boii,   m]iio   own  Tele- 
wboiii  I  lesTe  the  Bcepln 

otulfll 


mild 


L.  '"M"'"^ 


&  blHinelesa  In  he, 


In  omccs  of  teiidijiiiesa,  i 

Meet  (idoratloii  lo  my  lio 

When  I  Bin  gone.    Ue  m 

1  mine. 


o-aoftdeBrfai 
Kful  aiiu  ihs 

Biitred  in  the 


and  thought  witl' 
liBteverwiQiiLfrol 

opposed 


irt:  the  veiacl  puffB 
Hik  brood  eeiu.  ^I; 
toil'd,  and  wroiieht. 


liBbts  Leslii  to 
long  daj  wnnes 


inolte 


The  soundluE  fairowB ;  tor  my 
To  Bail  hejiond  the   sunset,  aui 

It  may  be  iliat  iho  gultii  will  wa 
It  mav  be  wo  Bhall  touch  the  B 
And  eee  the  gieat  AchillcB,  whom  wa 
Tho'  niuth  is  takeu,  much  abldea  ;  and 
Wo  are  notnow  ihat  Btremgih  which  in 
Moved  Kaiih  an.l  hsaven  ;  iliat  which 

Mado  weak    bj   liiuo   and   fate.'bot 


CIvSLEY    ItALL. 


mj  a  night  from  yonder  iTledcasoniBtit.  ere  I  went  to  rest, 

a  night  I  saw  the  Pleiads.  liripR  thro'  the  mellow  shade, 

^[tur  Ilka  a  BWBTPI  oC  Ure-fiieB  tangled  lu  a  lilVHT  bmid. 

Here  about  -the  hpsch  I  wandor'd.  nourlnhlng  s  youth  lubllmo 
With  Iho  lair)'  talea  u(  tolaHue,  and  Iho  Jong  result  ot  Time ; 
When  the  centuries  behind  ma  like  a  fraittnl  land  repoged : 
When  1  cluug  lo  all  the  pteseut  for  tlie  prouuse  that  it  doted: 
Whan  I  dlot  into  the  fiiturp  far  aii  human  eye  could  aoo  : 
Eaw  the  Vislou  of  the  world,  aud  all  the  wander  that  woald  bo.— 


himself  anothec  cnat; 


LOCKSLEY  II ALL,  OS 

Jn  ihe  Spring  a  livelier  iris  changes  on  the  bumish*d  dove ; 

In  the  Spring  a  young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of  love. 

Then  her  cheek  was  pale  and  thinner  than  should  be  for  one  as  young, 
And  her  eyes  on  all  my  motions  with  a  mute  observance  hung. 

And  I  said,  **  My  cousin  Amy,  speak,  and  speak  the  truth  to  me. 
Trust  me,  cousin,  all  the  current  of  my  being  sets  to  thee." 

On  her  pallid  cheek  and  forehead  came  a  color  and  a  light, 
As  I  have  seen  the  rosy  red  flushing  in  the  northern  light. 

And  she  turn* d— her  bosom  shaken  with  a  sudden  storm  of  sighs — 
All  the  spirit  deeply  dawning  in  the  dark  of  hazel  eyes — 

Saying,  **I  have  hid  my  feelings,  fearing  they  should  do  mo  wrong  ;  " 
Saying,  "  Dost  thou  love  me,  cousin  ?  "  weeping,  ♦*  I  have  loved  thee  long." 

liove  t-ook  up  the  glass  of  Time,  and  tum'd  it  in  his  glowing  hands  ; 
Every  moment,  li^tly  shaken,  ran  itself  in  golden  sands. 

Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords  with  might ; 
Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  pass'd  in  music  out  of  sight. 

Many  a  morning  on  the  moorland  did  we  hear  the  copses  ring. 
And  her  whisper  throng'd  my  pulses  with  the  fulness  of  the  Spring. 

Many  an  evening  by  tlie  waters  did  we  watch  the  stately^  ships, 
And  our  spirits  rush'd  together  at  the  touching  of  the  lips. 

O  my  cousin,  shallow-hearted  I  O  my  Amy,  mine  no  more  ! 

0  the  dreary,  dreary  moorland !  O  the  barren,  barren  shore  ! 

Falser  than  all  fancy  fathoms,  falser  than  all  son^s  have  sung. 
Puppet  to  a  father's  threat,  and  servile  to  a  shrewish  tongue ! 

Is  it  well  to  wish  thee  happy  ?  — having  known  me  —  to  decline 
On  a  range  of  lower  feelings  and  a  narrower  heart  than  mine  I 

Tet  it  shall  be :  thou  shalt  lower  to  his  level  day  by  day, 

"What  is  flne  within  thee  growing  coarse  to  sympathize  with  clay. 

As  the  husband  is,  the  wife  is  :  thou  art  mated  with  a  clown, 

And  the  grossness  of  his  nature  will  have  weight  to  drag  thee  down. 

He  will  hold  thee,  when  his  passion  shall  have  spent  its  novel  force, 
Something  better  than  his  dog,  a  little  dearer  than  his  horse. 

What  is  this  ?  his  eyes  are  heavy :  think  not  they  are  glazed  with  wine. 
Go  to  him :  it  Ia  thy  duty:  kiss  him  :  take  his  hand  in  thine. 

It  may  be  my  lord  is  weary,  that  his  brain  is  overwrought  : 

Soothe  him  with  thy  finer  fancies,  touch  him  with  thy  lighter  thought. 

He  will  answer  to  the  purpose,  easy  things  to  understand  — 
Better  thou  wert  dead  before  me,  tho'  I  slew  thee  with  my  hand  ! 

Better  thou  and  I  were  lying,  hidden  from  the  heart's  disgrace, 
Boll'd  in  one  another's  arms,  and  silent  in  a  last  embrace. 

Cursed  be  the  social  wants  that  sin  against  the  strength  of  youth  I 
Cursed  be  the  social  lies  that  warp  us  from  the  living  truth ! 

Cursed  be  the  sickly  forms  that  err  from  honest  Nature's  rule  ! 
Cursed  be  the  gold  that  gilds  the  straiteii'd  forehead  of  the  fool ! 

"Well  —  'tis  well  that  I  should  bluster  !  —  Hadst  thou  less  unworthy  provea— 
Would  to  God— for  I  had  loved  thee  more  than  ever  wife  was  loved. 

Am  I  mad.  that  I  should  cherish  that  which  bears  but  bitter  fruit  ? 

1  will  pluck  it  from  my  bosom,  tho'  my  heai  t  be  at  the  root. 

Never,  tho*  my  mortal  summers  to  such  length  of  years  should  come 
As  the  many-winter'd  crow  that  leads  the  clanging  rookery  home. 

Where  is  comfort?  in  division  of  the  records  of  the  mind  ? 
Can  I  part  her  from  herself,  and  love  her,  as  I  knew  her,  kind  ? 

I  remember  one  that  perish'd  :  sweetly  did  she  speak  and  move : 
Such  a  one  do  I  remember,  whom  to  look  at  was  to  love. 

Can  I  think  of  her  as  dead,  and  love  her  for  the  love  she  bore  ? 
No—  she  i»ever  loved  me  truly  :  love  is  love  for  evermore. 

Comfort  ?  comfort  scorn 'd  of  devils !  this  is  truth  the  poet  sings. 
That  a  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things. 

Dnuc  thy  memories,  lest  tAou  learn  it,  lest  thy  heart  be  put  to  proot, 
la  tbe  deftd  v^happjr  nigbt,  and  when  the  rain  is  on  the  root. 


f- 


LOCKSIEY  HALL. 


Then  a  hnncl  Bball  pan  Ttafore  Ihee,  pWMHnB  to  hlB  dnmliBii  slaap. 
To  liy  widow'd  mairi»gB-|iiLlo»B,  Oi -fli*  wars  tlint  thou  iviltweep. 
Thou  slinlt  hesr  tho  "  Never,  iiayer,"  whlBper"!!  hy  the  phmnlom  jea 
Ami  a  Bong  Irom  out  tha  dlihuiue  iu  Ui«  liiigjiig  u[  Uiliie  ean ; 
And  ail  eya  shall  TGI  thee,  lookiiis  intrieTiI  kliidiiesi  nn  tliy  pain. 
Tuni  thoe.  turn  thee  oii  thy  ^lluw :  gb(  tlwa  M  tUy  real  again. 

'TIa'a  jiurec  life  than  thine  ;  a  liii  to  drain  thy  tioublu  diy. 

Babv'llpB  irlU  laugli  ma  down  :  my  latest  rical  biiiiEa  Ihee  rOBt. 

Baby  Huge™,  wa»en  wueheB,  pi'esa  from  ihe  inother'i  lnesaL 

O.  the  Fhild  loo  clnthei  Ibn  fnlber  wltb  a  deanieH  not  his  due. 

Half  la  Uilne  and  ball  lii  bia  :  It  will  ba  worlby  o(  Uie  two. 

0, 1  aae  tliBo  old  and  formal,  fitted  lo  thy  pettj  part. 

'With  u  ULtlo  board  of  luaiinw  iireaeliiiii;  oanu  u  daughter'!  heart. 


Overlive  It  —  lower  vet  —  ba  happy  I  «her«tore  ahould  1  t'Bre  ? 

I  inyscll  mutt  uOi  wlLb  aetlun,  lest  I  wltber  by  degpftir. 

What  Is  tbat  vblsb  I  Bboold  turn  to,  lighting  upon  daji  like  Iheae  ? 

Kvery  dooc  la  barr'il  vTltti  gold,  and  opi^iia  but  lo  goldeii  keyi. 

Erery  gate  la  Ibrong'd  with  aDlton,  all  Ibe  markets  overHow. 

1  have  but  >,n  siigiy  laney :  what  Li  that  wtikh  1  Fbould  dor 

I  had  bean  eontenl  to  piriiib,  tolling  on  the  toeniaire  arpund. 

When  ths  ranks  are  roll'd  in  vapor,  sikI  tbe  winda  are  laid  with  soond 

But  tlio  ]li>Bllns  of  the  Riiiiiea  halpa  the  hurt  IbBt  Honor  feeU. 

And  ihs  naliuiu  do  but  uiunuur,  aiiarllng  at  aacli  olher'e  lieela. 

Can  I  bat  relive  in  sadnetB.  I  will  Inm  that  earlier  paEe, 

Hide  mo  from  my  deep  emotion,    O  thou  wuuOrouilrtoUier-AEe  1 

Hake  me  feel  the  wild  pulsalluii  that  I  felt  before  th«  strife, 

■Wliaii  1  heard  my  days  before  mo,  and  tha  tumult  of  uiy  life  ; 

Taamlng  [or  the  large  eicellenient  that  (he  coiDlna  years  would  yluld, 

£agei'-hearted  as  a  boy  wbon  HrBt  be  leaves  Ills  tauiet's  Held, 

And  at  nlRht  along  the  dUBky  highway  near  Bn<l  nesrer  di-awn, 

Sees  111  heaven  tlie  light  of  Jjindou  flaring  like  a  dreary  dawn  \ 

And  his  spirit  leaps  witbin  lilm  to  be  gmiebPfore  him  then, 


:en,  mi  brothers,  n 
hat  wblub  they  bs' 


For  I  lUpt  into  the  fnlure,  far  a*  bumnn  aya  rnnid  see, 

Saw  the  Vision  of  the  world,  uid  all  iba  wonder  that  would  be  ; 


Raw  the  lienvene  Ittl  wUli  eommerce,  arcosies  of  magic  an 
'  ;ht,  dropping  down  with  costly  Ij 


purple  twilight. 
Heard  the  heavens  (III  with  ebon  linn.  ft"d  there  rsln'd  ncbastly  di 
Ktoni  tlie  nations'  airy  navies  grappling  In  liie  central  blue  ; 
Far  along  the  world-wide  wLinper  of  Ihe  noilth.wliid  rushing  warm. 
'With  the  standardi)  of  the  iwoplcs  plimi^ng  thro'  tlio  ihuiiir«r4torm 
Till  tlie  war-drum  llirobb'd  no  longer,  and  Hie  battle-flags  wero  furl' 
In  the  Parliament  of  man,  the  Feiferalion  o£  the  world. 

And  the  kindly  a     ■     ' 

Left  me  with  ^a  palsl< 

Rve.  (o  which  all  order  festers,  all  things  here  are  out  of] 
Ecleuc«  movee,  but  alowly  slowly,  creeping  uu  from  point 
SIqwIv  comes  a  hunery  people,  as  a 


lU  aad  wluka  txibiuil  u 


dug  Higher, 
jwly^l^jig  llr 


LOCKSLEY  HALL, 

Yet  I  doubt  not  tliro*  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 

And  the  thoughts  of  men  aie  widen'd  with  the  process  of  the  sune. 

What  is  tliat  to  him  that  reaps  not  harvest  of  his  youthful  joys, 
Tho'  the  deep  heart  of  existence  beat  for  ever  like  a  boy's  ? 

Knowledge  comes,  but  wisdom  lingers,  and  I  linger  on  the  shore, 
And  the  individual  withers,  and  the  world  is  more  and  more. 

Knowledge  comes,  but  wisdom  lingers,  and  he  bears  a  laden  breast. 
Full  of  sad  expeiieuce,  moving  towards  the  stillnesit  of  his  rebt. 

Hark,  my  merry  comrades  call  me,  sounding  on  the  bugle-horn. 
They  to  whom  my  foolish  passion  were  a  target  for  their  scorn  : 

Shall  it  not  be  scorn  to  me  to  harp  on  such  a  moulder'd  string  ? 
I  am  shamed  thro'  all  my  nature  to  have  loved  so  slight  a  thing. 

Weakness  to  be  wroth  with  weakness  !  woman's  pleasure,  woman's  pain— 
Mature  made  them  blinder  motions  bounded  in  a  shallower  brain  : 

Woman  is  the  lesser  man,  and  all  thy  passions,  match'd  with  mine, 
Are  as  moonlight  unto  sunlight,  ami  as  water  unto  wine  — 

Here  at  least,  where  nature  sickens,  nothing.    Ah.  for  some  retreat 
Deep  in  yonder  shining  Odent,  where  my  life  began  to  beat ; 

Where  in  wild  Mahratta-battle  fell  my  father  evil-starr'd  ;  — 
I  was  left  a  trampled  orphan,  and  a  selUsh  uncle's  ward. 

Or  to  burst  all  links  of  habit  —  there  to  wander  far  away, 
On  from  island  uuto  island  at  the  gateways  of  the  day. 

Larger  constellations  burning,  mellow  moons  and  happy  skies, 
Breadths  of  tropic  shade  and  palms  in  cluster,  knots  of  Paradise. 

Never  comes  the  trader,  never  floats  an  European  fla^. 

Slides  the  bird  o'er  lustrous  woodland,  swings  the  trailer  from  the  crag  ; 

Droops  the  heavy-blossom'd  bower,  bangs  the  heavy-fruited  tree  — 
Sunmier  isles  of  Eden  lying  in  dark>purple  spheres  of  sea. 

There  methinks  would  be  enjoyment  more  than  in  this  march  of  mind. 
In  the  steamship,  in  the  railway,  in  the  thoughts  that  shake  mankind. 

There  the  passions  cramp'd  no  longer  shall  have  scope  and  breathing-space  ; 
I  will  take  some  savage  woman,  she  shall  rear  my  dusky  race. 

Iron-jointed,  supple-sinewM,  they  shall  dive,  and  they  shall  run. 
Catch  the  wild  goat  by  the  hair,  and  hurl  their  lances  in  the  sun ; 

Whistle  back  the  parrot's  call,  and  leap  the  rainbows  of  the  brooks, 
Not  with  blinded  eyesight  poring  over  miserable  books  — 

Fool,  again  the  dream,  the  fancy  !  but  I  know  my  words  are  wild. 
But  I  count  the  gray  barbarian  "lower  than  the  dhristian  child. 

/,  to  herd  with  narrow  foreheads,  vacant  of  our  glorious  gains, 
like  a  beast  with  lower  pleasures,  like  a  beast  with  lower  pains ! 

Mated  with  a  squalid  savage  —  what  to  mo  were  sun  or  clime  ? 
I  the  heir  of  all  the  ages,  in  tho  foremost  liles  of  time- 

I  that  rather  held  it  better  men  should  i)eri8h  one  by  one, 

Thau  that  earth  shoulJ  stand  at  gaze  like  Joshua's  moon  in  Ajalon  ! 

Not  in  vain  the  distance  beacons.    Forward,  forward  let  ns  range. 
Let  tho  great  world  spin  for  ever  down  the  ringing  grooves  of  change. 

Thro*  the  shadow  of  tho  globe  we  sweep  into  the  younger  day  : 
Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay. 

Mother-Age  (for  mine  I  knew  not)  help  me  as  when  life  begun  : 

liift  the  hills,  and  roll  the  waters,  flash  the  lightnings,  weigh  the  Sun  - 

0, 1  see  the  crescent  promise  of  my  spirit  hath  not  set. 
Ancient  founts  of  inspiration  well  thro'  all  my  fancy  yet. 

Howsoever  these  things  be,  a  long  farewell  to  Locksley  Hall  I 

Now  for  me  the  woods  may  wither,  now  for  me  the  roof-tree  fall. 

Comes  a  vapor  from  the  margin,  blackening  over  heath  and  holt,  • 

Cramming  all  the  blast  before  it,  in  its  breast  a  thunderbolt. 

Let  it  fan  on  Locksley  Hall,  with  rain  or  hail,  or  fire  or  buoyt  \ 
For  the  xuighty  wind  arises,  roaring  seaward,  and  I  go. 


65 


I 


THE  TWO  VOICES, 


07 


Was  clashM  and  hammor'd  from  ahun> 

dred  towen. 
One  after  one :    but  eren  then  she 

gain*d 
Iler  bower;   whence  reissuing, robed 

and  crown'd. 
To  meet  her  IokI.  she  took  the  tax  awny 
And  built  herself  an  everlasting  name. 


THE  TWO  VOICrS. 

A  ^TTLL  small  Toice  spake  unto  mo, 
•*  Thou  art  so  full  of  misery, 
•  "Were  it  not  better  not  to  be  ?  " 

Then  to  the  still  small  voice  I  said : 
**  I^t  me  not  cast  in  endless  shade 
"What  is  BO  wonderfully  made." 

To  which  the  voice  did  urge  reply  ; 

**  To  day  I  saw  the  dragon-fly 

Come  from  the  wells  voiere  no  did  lio. 

•*  An  inner  impulse  rent  tho  veil 
Of  his  old  husk  :  from  head  to  tail 
Came  out  clear  plates  of  sapphire  mail. 

**  He  dried  his  wings :  like  gauzo  they 

grew: 
Thro'  crofts  and  pastures  wet  with  dew 
A  living  flash  of  light  he  flew.** 

I  said,  **  "When  first  the  world  began, 
Young  Nature  thro*  five  cycles  ran. 
And  in  the  sixth  she  moulded  man. 

"  She  gave  him  mind,  the  lordliest 
Proportion,  and.  above  the  rest, , 
l>ominion  in  tho  head  and  breast'*' 

Thereto  the  silent  voice  replied ; 
•*  Self-blinded  are  you  by  your  pride : 
Look  up  thro*  night :  the  world  is  wide. 

"This  truth  within  thy  mind  rehearse, 

That  in  a  boundless  universe 

Is  boundless  better,  boundless  worse. 

**  Think  you  this  mould  of  hopes  and 

foai-8 
Could  find  no  statelier  than  his  peen 
In  yonder  hundred  million  spheres  ?** 

It  spake,  moreover,  in  my  mind : 

•*  Tho*  thou  were  scatter'd  to  tho  wind, 

Yet  is  there  plenty  of  the  kind.** 

Then  did  my  response  clearer  fall : 
**  No  compound  of  this  earthly  ball 
Is  like  another,  all  in  all.*' 

To  which  he  answer*d  scoflinglv  : 

**  Good  soul  !  suppose  I  grunt  \t  thee, 

\7ho*ll  weep  for  thy  deficiency  ? 

"Or  will  one  beam  be  less  intense. 

When  thy  peculiar  difference 

l6  cancelVd  in  tho  world  of  sense  ?  *' 

I  would  havo  caid,  "  Thou  canst  not 

know,'* 
I5ut  my  full  heart,  that  work*d  below, 
l{ain*d  thro*  my  sight  its  overflow. 

Anin  the  voice  spake  unto  me  : 
*'Thoa  art  so  steep'd  in  misery. 
Surely  'twere  better  not  to  be. 

"lUn*  anffolih  will  not  let  thee  sleep, 
yoratt/  ttwu  of  reaaou  keep : 


Thou  canst  not  think,  but  thou  wilt 
weep.'* 

I  said,  "The  years  with  change  ad- 
vance : 
If  I  make  dark  my  countenance, 
1  shut  my  life  from  happier  chance. 

**  Some  turn  this  sickness  yet  might 
take, 

Ev*nyet."    But  he:  "What  drug  can 

moke 
A  wither*d  palsy  cease  to  shake  ?" 

1  wept,  "  Tho'  1  should  die,  I  know 
That  all  about  tho  thorn  will  blow 
In  tufts  of  rosy-linted  snow  ; 

"And   men,  thro*   novel   spheres  of 

thought 
Still  moving  after  truth  long  sought. 
Will  learn  new  things  when  I  aiu  not.'* 

**Yct,'*  said  the  secret  voice,  "some 

time, 
Sooner  or  later,  will  gray  prime 
Make  thy  giass  hoar  with  early  rime. 


<4 


Not  less  swift  souls  that  yeani  for 
light, 

rapt  after  heaven*8  starry  flight. 
Would  sweep  the  tiacta  of  day   and 
night. 

"Not  less  tho  bee  would  range  her 

cells. 
The  f urzy  prickle  fire  the  dells. 
The  foxglove  cluster  dappled  bells.** 

I  said  that  "  all  the  years  invent ; 
IZach  niontli  is  various  to  present 
The  world  with  some  development. 

"Were  this  not  well,  to  bide  mine 

hour, 
Tho'  watching  from  a  ruin'd  tower 
How  grows  tho  day  of  human  power?" 

**  The  highestrmonnted  mind."  he  said, 
"  Still  sees  the  sacred  morning  spread 
The  silent  summit  overhead. 

"  Y\\\\  tldrty  seasons  render  plain 
Those  lonely  lights  that  still  remain. 
Just  breaking  over  land  and  main? 

"Or  make  that  morn,  from  his  cold 

crown 
And  crystal  silence  creeping  down. 
Flood  with   full   daylight   glebe   and 

town  ? 

"  Forerun  thy  peers,  thy  time,  and  let 
Thy  feet,  millenniums  hence,  be  set 
In  midst  of  knowledge,  dream'd  not 
yet. 

"  Thou  hast  not  gain'd  a  real  height, 
Nor  art  thou  nearer  to  the  light, 
Because  the  scale  is  infinite. 

"  'Twero  better  not  to  breathe  or  speak. 
Than  cry  for  streneth,  remaining  weak, 
And  seem  to  find,  out  still  to  seek. 

"  Moreover,  but  to  seem  to  find 
Asks  what  thou  lackest,  thouj^t  re' 


A  he 


sign'd, 

efllthy  frame,  a  quie^  lalw^' 


es 


I  udil,  ■'  ^Tlien  T  nni  jrone  nway, 
■  H»  <\Hml  iiDi  UiTf 'meii  »tll  uy, 
Uollig  dlBlionour  lu  my  clay." 
"  This  ]*  DinrB  Tile,"  ha  muda  reply, 
■'To  bresLlie  aoil  loathe,  to  tiv«  miL 

•igh. 
Than  oiica  tnm  dread  et  pain  to  die. 
"SiFk  «rt  thnn— a  dirtUeil  will 
Still  lieainiiB  un  the  Unr  of  ill 
I'he  eear  of  uuiii,  a  cuward  Biill. 
■'OameiiloTe  tlice?ArlthnuMibminr] 
To  men,  UiM  Im*  thy  name  may  muihI 
Will  vex  thee  lying  ui><lei£ivaiKl  V 
'•  Tlie  Tnemnry  ot  tbo  wlUier'd  lOkF 
In  enllleu  lmi«  ia  armee  mdru  bmt 
Tliau  oC  the  garnec'd  Antumn-elieBi'. 
"Go,  Texed  Spirit,  sleep  III  traat : 
TliD  ligbl  ear.  llint  ia  tilled  wllli  Jaal, 
Ua^ra  little  oCUie  false  or  juei." 


mile  atjll  i  yearii  "i  Eur'liuiua"  pra!isu. 
"Whan,  Tvlda   in  aoul   and  hold  ot 

Anwnc  llin  tanta  I  pansert  and  BDiig, 
The  dSuiii  battle  lloali'd  and  rung. 
•■  I  King  tbo  ;<iyf  nl  P»?an  rlear. 
The  bninU.  the  buoklet,  awl  Oia  Epear— 


To  piit  lOBelli.fr,'  rail  and  pri.vf,' 
Ai.,lHiBt6tUobo.inUs<inialaai.iUoTe- 

Free  unoce  ffir  every  bunian  lUinlit. 
Tliat  tbe  whole  niiml  might  orb  aboat — 
"  To  Bei»rrh  llim'  all  1  tolt  or  bow, 
The  eprlnga  oMife,  lb«  daptlu  of  awo. 


Hot  cold  of  riibteonx  ■sir-nppli 


THE  TIVO   VOICES. 

KM  the  itlrring  of  the  blood. 
I  nalnrs  pat  not  forth  her  pom 
iiul  the  Di«nliiB  i>l  Hie  flower, 
lo  ia  11  that  could  IIto  an  hour  ? 


riabteonK  isir-niiplaa 


"WliosB  eyee  aro  dim  nllU  Blorlou» 

Whan,  wlird  with  nobia  dust,  ho  heara 
Kli  country's  irar-BiniBthrlilhlgeani  : 
"  Than  dvlna  o(  a  miirtai  stroke, 
What  lime  the  [oeman-H  line  In  broke. 
And  all  the  war  ia  roll'd  Li  Kmoke." 
*  Vea  !  "  anlil  the  voice,  "thy  dream 
'lilo  iboii  abodeat  In  Ihe  tniO. 


■'Then  eomea  tbe  cliecli, llia i 

tlia  [all. 

Pain  ilBMi  Mp.  old  pleaanreu  pall. 
There  i»  one  lome-V  fur  ttU. 
"  ret  bailattbon,  thro' enduring  pal  a] 
l4iilCrl  uiuulh  to  luoiiUi  wlthnui'^ 

Of  kuilWil  purport,  all  were  inin. 
"Tiiiinbodab  not  betweeu  ileaUi  i 

IMsBnIvcd  Ihc  riddle  of  the  eartll, 

Su  w<:ri:  Iby  Inbimi'  little  worth. 

■'  Tliat  men  with  kuDwladge  men 

I  lol.l  tiiee'— hardly  r-ighpr  mad  _ 

Tho'Bcalingaluwfr.,n.Kradel.,|jr«dsl 
"  Mui-h  ieai  thia  dccatuer,  deai  ■ 
Xamiiil  man,  may  hops  anme  trutb  H 


■  For  every  worin 


Spina,  tolling  nnt  hll  own  cocoon. 
Btyonil  tbe  polar  gleam  lorloni, 


Reronil  tbe  furlheat  fUcblaof  1uitm, 
Wrapt  ill  dense  cluud  from  LxiMa  Uicu. 
"  .tometlmai  a  little  rcmer  iliiuei, 
Aa  over  rainy  mUllncliiiHB 
A  glenmlng  erafl  with  bctta  of  plnca 
"  1  will  RO  forward.  i«Teittbou, 
Id»k  up,  the  fold  li  oo  her  brow. 
■'  ir  atraiabt  thy  track,  or  if  ohllqiii'. 
Thou  know 'St  not.    ShStiowB  tUoailr'* 

Embraciua  doad,  Ixlon-Uke ; 
"  And  owning  but  a  lUtl«  more 
Calling  thyot-lf  a  lilLlo  lower 
"  Than   angels.      Ceue  to  wall   i 

Why  incbbyiiieb  to 
There  Is  oiio  reiiioJj 

"  O  dull,  one-sided  voice."  Mid  T 
"  WllLtbunniaku  everythinKalle, 
To  flatter  mo  that  I  may  .ile? 
"  I  know  that  age  to  age  Bucoeeita, 
Bl[>win([  a  nolae  of  tonnes  anil  dr- 
A  dust  of  BysleinB  and  of  ereeils. 


icblev 


utnlni, 


The  loy  that  mixes  m 


1  with  HMttnri 


TEE  TWO  VOICES, 


C9 


*  Who.rowing  hard  asainBt  the  stream, 
Saw  cUstaut  gateB  of  Eden  gleaui, 
And  did  not  dream  it  was  a  dream  ; 

**  But  heard,  by  secret  transport  led, 
£v*iiin  thecliariiels  of  the  dead, 
The  luurmur  of  the  fouiitaiii-head — 

**  Which  did  accomplish  their  desire, 
Bore  aiid  forebore,  and  did  not  tire, 
Liike  Stephen,  an  uuquenched  Hre. 

**  He  heeded  not  reviling  tones, 
Kor  sold  his  heart  to  idle  moans, 
Tho*  curseil  and  scoru'd,  and  bruised 
with  stones  : 

**  But  looking  upward,  full  of  grace, 
Hepi-ay*d,  and  from  a  happy  place 
Goers  glory  smote  him  on  the  face.'* 

The  sullen  answer  slid  betwixt : 

**  Not  that  the  grounds  of  hope  were 

liz'd. 
The  elements  were  kindlier  mix*d.*' 

I  said,  "  I  toil  beneath  the  curse, 
But,  Knowing  not  the  universe, 
1  fear  to  slide  from  bad  lo  worse. 

"  And  that,  in  seekine  to  undo 
One  riddle,  and  to  find  the  true, 
I  knit  a  hundred  others  new  : 

"  Or  that  this  anguish  fleeting  hence, 
Unmanacled  from  bonds  of  sense. 
Be  fix'd  and  froz'n  to  permanence  t 

•*  For  I  go,  weak  from  suffering  here  ; 
Naked  igo,  and  void  of  cheer  : 
What  is  it  that  I  may  not  fear  ?  " 

**  Consider  well,"  the  voice  replied: 
**  His  face,  that  two  houi-s  since  hath 

died; 
Wilt  thou  find  passion,  pain  or  pride  ? 

"  Will  he  obey  when  one  commands  ? 
Or  answer  should  one  press  his  hands  ? 
He  answers  not,  nor  understands. 

"  His  palms  are  folded  on  his  breast : 
There  is  no  other  thing  express'd 
But  long  disquiet  merged  in  rest. 

*«  His  lips  are  very  mild  and  meek  : 
Tho'  one    should  smite  him  on   the 

cheek. 
And  on  the  mouth,  ho  will  not  speak. 

'*  His  little  daughter,  whos 3  sweet  face 
He  kiss'd,  taking  his  last  embrace. 
Becomes  dishonor  to  her  race — 

**  His  sons  grow  up  that  bear  his  name, 
Some  grow  to  honor,  some  to  shame, — 
But  he  is  chill  to  praise  or  blame. 

"  He  will  not  hear  the  north-wind  rave, 
Kor,  moaning,  household  shelter  crave 
From  winter  rains  that  beat  his  grave. 

"  High  up  the  vapors  fold  and  swim  : 
About  him  broods  the  twilight  dim  : 
The  place  he  knew  forgeteth  him." 

**  If  all  be  dark,  vague  voice,"  I  said, 
**  These  things  are  wrapt  in  doubt  and 

dread,  i 

Kor  eanst  thoa  Mhow  the  dead  are  dead,  J 


"  The  sap  dries  up  :  the  plant  declines. 
A  deeper  tale  my  heart  divines. 
Know    I    not  Death?  the    outward 


si^ns? 


« 


fomid  him  when  my  yean  were 

few  ; 
A  shadow  on  the  graves  I  knew. 
And  darkneKS  in  the  village  yew. 

"  From  grave  to  grave  the  riiadow 

crept  : 
In  her  mill  place  the  morning  wept ; 
louch'd  by  his  feet  the  daihy  slept. 

**  The  simple  senses  crown'd  his  head: 
*  Omeg.i  !  thou  art  Lonl,*  they  said, 
'  We  find  no  motion  in  the  dead.' 

"  "WTiy,  if  man  rot  in  dreamless  ease. 
Should  that  |)laiu  fact,  as  taught  by 

these. 
Not  make  him  sure  that  he  shall  cease? 

•*  Who  forged  that  other  influence. 

That  heut  of  inward  evidence, 

By  which  he  doubts  against  the  sense? 

"  He  owns  the  fatal  gift  of  eyes, 
Tliat  i-ead  his  spirit  blindly  wise. 
Not  simple  as  a  thing  that  dies. 

"  Here  sits  he  shaping  wings  to  fly  : 
His  heart  forebo<les  a  mystery  : 
He  names  tho  name  Eternity. 

"  That  type  of  Perfect  in  his  mind 
In  Nature  can  ho  nowhere  find. 
He  sows  himself  on  every  wind. 

"  He  seems  to  hear  a  Heavenly  Friend, 
And  thro'  thick  veils  to  apprehend 
A  labor  working  to  an  end. 

"  The  end  and  the  beginning  vex 
Hi!4  reason  :  many  things  lerplex 
With  motions,  checks,  and  counter- 
checks. 

**  He  knows  a  baseness  In  his  blood 
At  such  strange  war  with  something 

good, 
He  may  not  do  the  thing  he  would. 

"  Heaven  opens  inward,  chasms  yawn, 
Vast  images  in  glimmering  dawn. 
Half  shown,  are  broken  and  withdrawn. 

'♦  All  !  sure  within  him  and  without. 
Could  his  (lark  wisdom  find  it  out. 
There  must  be  answer  to  his  doubt. 

**  But  thou  canst  answer  not  again. 
With  tluncowii  weapon  art  thou  slain, 
Or  thou  wilt  answer  but  in  vain. 

"  The  doubt  would  rest,  I  daro  not 

solve. 
In  the  same  circle  we  revolve. 
Assurance  only  breeds  resolve.' 

As  when  a  billow,  blown  against, 
Falls  back,  the   voice  with  which  I 

fenced 
A  little  ceased,  but  recommenced. 

"  Where  wert  thou  when  thy  father 

plav'd 
In  his  free  field,  and  paaUuve  latAA^ 
A  merry  boy  in  Bun  and  «!ha<i«'t 


70  THE  TWO   VOICES. 

••  A  merry  boy  Ihey  taWcd  Lira  Uion, 
lu  daft  thM  uever  uimu  ogUii. 


WUUBB „ 

VlioM    troublea    iiuubor    wiUi    Id 

lite  of  iiotMnn,  iiotMnpirorUi, 


Ko  certain  elEnniosB,  but  at  best 
A  TuguB  buiplulDii  (.( llio  breiiBt : 
"  But  It  I  ETflnt.  thou  mLaht'M  dsfelld 
TliQ  tlMfXa  wliicli  tit;  worils  liiteud— 
ThoC  to  beglu  impllnn  to  end ; 


Tha  ilippliig 
"  Ab  here  «« 
Fnpijel  thi 


oloviiji  relat 
.  orLellio  in 


tliey  ftU  lu  ttaiico  agalii. 
;o  miglil  we,  !f  onr  stnla  were  8uo 

rttaosa  two  llk>:«  mlijlit  ioeut  i 
toticH. 
tilt,  ir  T  Upied  from  nobler  place 
ne  legend  or  ntnllenr^e 
?iiB  nu^fbt  libit  oC  my  diBgrace  ; 
ome  Taane  emotion  oF  dellebt 
...  gazing  up  Bii  Alpine  height, 
Soma  yeaiDliiE  towiuj  tha  lunps 

iilght. 
"Or If  tliro'lowBrllfeBl  oame— 
C.ouBolUiatoihiiiliulauti  fromo — 
"  t  mlRTit  forget  my  wi 


I  of  mem 


ir  fori 


"And  n 


/■ 


"MnohmDre.1fflr«t 
Ab  linked  eweiice,  m 
Iiujompeteni  of  men 


For  memory  dealing  but  wltli  tlm^     1 

,ud  hs  wltli  inntlsr.  BliDUld  ebe  dttntt    I 

I e;ond  lii;r  own  material  prime? 

Moreovor-  wmeihlug  is  or  seema, 

'hat  toui^hes  me  with  mystJ.:  gleanu 

ike  glliupBea  of  forgotten  dreamA— 

Of  Bomethliig  lelt,  Uke   Bometblng  I 

irsoiaetlilngdone.Ik 
uch  OS  iio  lauKuago  m 
-he  BtUI  voles  lauQh'd.  "  I  talk,"  Enid  | 
I.   eafaiolttUco 

misa'il  thy  1 


h  IhT  dret 
U  a  reallt 
lu,"  said  I, 


.llt>.- 


By  makinic  all  the  horli 

"  Why  luit  Bet  forth,  If  I  should  do 

„..., , -'-•-Mohmlghteni 

roi7  Bfllth, 
that  bceathis   with  ban 


With  th 


eath 


donth. 


Una  eve 
'■  'Tin  li: 

0  lite,  net  denth.  for  vhlcli  wo  T^Bnt : 
Moi'o life,  and  fitUai,  that  1  waut " 

1  rented,  nnrl  rat  as  one  tnrlom- 

And  I  an»o.  and  I  roloaaed 
Tho  cBBomom,  and  the  light  Incri 
With  ItBBhuesa  lu  the  dnwuliig  a 
Lllie  eof  ten'd  nlrs  thnt  blowlna  at 
When  mona  begin  to  iincoi.getl, 
The  Bweei  ehurch  belU  began  to  peiU 
On  to  God'B  hooae  the  people  preet ! 
I'aaelnc  lbs   plooo  whard  each  mm 


■Wltii  11 


red  f  ooi 


iirlfee 


tiCBnM  oil  Itlm,  faithful,  gentle,  g 
Wearing  tlieroae  of  ivoniuibuod. 
A  nd  In  their  dnuhlo  lova  aacnte, 
The  little  midden  wulti'd  demnre 
Paeliig  with  donnward  cyellda  pi 
These  three  made  nnity  go  iweot, 


f  be  dull  and  bitter  voica  waa  £• 
A  Beeond  vnlee  wn"  at  mine  ear, 
A  littlB  wlilBper  fllver-flear, 

Ab  from  an'me  bllBfnl  neighborhood, 
'  I  Baa  ttie  end,  and  knew  the  goo^" 


THE  DA  Y  DREAM. 


71 


A  little  hint  to  solace  woe, 

A  hint,  a  whisper  breathins  lo^, 

'*  I  may  not  speak  of  what  I  know.** 

Like  an  .Solian  harp  that  wakes 

No  certain  air,  but  overtakes 

Far  thought  vrith  muuic  that  it  makes: 

Such  seem*d  the  whisper  at  my  side  : 
**  Wliat    is  it  thou    kuowest,   sweet 

voice  ?  **  I  cried. 
**  A  hidden  hope/'  the  voice  replied: 

So  heavenly-tonedf  tliat  in  that  hour 
From  out  my  sullen  heart  a  i)ower 
Broke,   like  the    j:ainlK)w  from  the 
shower, 

To  feel,  altho*  no  tongue  can  prove. 
That  every  cloud,  that  spreads  above 
And  veileth  love,  itself  is  love* 

And  forth  into  tho  fields  I  went, 
And  Natui-e's  living  motion  lent 
The  pulse  of  hope  to  discontent. 

1  wonder'd  at  the  bounteous  hours, 
The  slow  result  of  winter  showers : 
You  scarce  could  see  the  grass  for 
flowers. 

I  wonder*d,  while  I  paced  along: 
The  woods  were  fiirdsofull  wiQi  son«7, 
There  seem*d-  no  room  for  sense  of 
wrong. 

So  variously  8eem*d  all  thinprs  wrought, 
I  marveirdhow  the  mind  was  brought 
To  anchor  by  one  gloomy  thought ; 

And  wherefore  rather  I  made  choice 
To  commune  with  that  barren  voice, 
Thau  him  that  said,   *'  Bejoico  !   re- 
joice ! » 

THE   DAY   DREAM. 

PROLOGUE. 

O  Laby  Flora,  let  me  speak: 

A  pleasant  hour  has  past  away 
'While,    dreaming    on    your   damask 
cheek. 

The  dewv  sister-eyelids  lay* 
As  by  the  lattice  you  reclined, 

I  went  thro'  many  wayward  moods 
To  see  you  dreaming— and,  behind, 

A  summer  crisp  mth  shining  woods. 
And  1  too  dream'd,  until  at  last 

Across  my  fancy,  brooding  warm, 
The  reflex  of  a  lesend  past, 

And  loof^Iy  settled  into  form. 
And  would  you  have  the  thought  I 
had. 

And  see  the  vision  that  I  saw. 
Then  take  the  broidery-frame,  and  add 
<    A  crimson  to  the  quaint  Macaw, 
And  I  will  tell  it.    'JHirn  your  face, 

Nor  look  with  that  too-earnest  eye — 
The  rhymes  are  dazzled  from  their 
place. 

And  order'd  words  asunder  fly. 

THE  SLEEPING  PALACE. 
I. 

TRB  varying  year  with  blade  and  sheaf 
Clothes  and   redothes    the  happy 
plains; 


Here  rests  the  nap  within  the  leaf. 
Here  stays  the  blood  along  the  veins 

Faint  shadows,  vapors  lightly  curl'd, 
Faint  murmura  from  the  meadows 
come, 

Like  hints  and  echoes  of  the  world 
To  spirits  folded  in  tho  womb. 

II. 
Soft  lustre  bathes  the  range  of  urns 

On  every  slanting  terrace-lawn. 
The  fountain  to  his  place  returns 

Deep  in  the  garden  lake  withdrawn.^ 
Here  droops  the  banner  on  the  tower,  ' 

On  the  hall-hearths  the  festal  tires, 
The  peacock  in  his  laurel  bower. 

The  pairot  in  his  gilded  wires. 

III. 

Roof-haunting  martins    warm    their 
eggs: 

In  these,  in  those  the  life  is  stay'd* 
The  mantles  from  the  golden  pegs 

Droop  sleepily  ;  no  sound  is  made, 
Not  even  of  a  gnat  that  sings. 

More  like  a  picture  seemeth  all 
Tlian  those  old  portraits  of  old  kings. 

That  watch  the  sleepere  from  the 
wall. 

IV. 

Here  sits  the  Butler  with  a  flask 

Between  his  knees,  half-drain'd;  and 
there 
Tho  wrinkled  steward  at  his  task. 

The  maid-of-honor  blooming  fair  : 
The  pa^e  has  caught  her  hand  in  his: 

Her  lips  are  sever'd  as  to  speak  : 
His  own  are  pouted  to  a  kiss  : 

The  blush  Is  lix'd  upon  her  cheek. 

V. 

Till  all  the  hundred  summers  pass, 

The    beams,    that   thro'   the   Oriel 
shine, 
Make  prisms  in  every  carven  glass, 

And    beaker    brimm'd    wiUi   noble 
wine. 
Each  baron  at  the  banquet  sleeps. 

Grave  faces  ^ather'd  in  a  ring. 
His  state  the  king  reposing  keeps. 

He  must  have  been  a  jovial  king. 

VI. 

All  round  a  hedge  upshoots,  and  shows 

At  distance  like  a  little  wood  ; 
Thorns,  ivies,  woodbine,  mistletoes, 

And  grapes   with   bunches   red   as 
blood ; 
All  creeping  plants,  a  wall  of  green 

Close-matted,   burr  and  brake  and 
brier, 
And  glimpsing  over  these,  just  seen. 

High  up,  the  topmost  palace-spire. 

VII. 

When  will  the  hundred  summers  die. 
And  thought  and  time  be  born  ajgain. 

And  never  knowledge,  drawing  nigh, 
Bring  tiiith  that  swa^s  the  «o\iVcl 
men? 


7 


THE  DAY  DREAil. 


Here  ill  lliliigi  111  tlielT  plare  t 


m  fated  fairy  Priiu-c. 


Teas  nrwr  year  unto  IiPt  fM(, 
ghs  lying  oil  her  eoiifli  nloiio, 

Jlcrrm  lliB  uurplBil  cotbi'IuI, 
The    mUdeu'a    Jot-bUick    linlr   luu 

n  e\!^TiS.l\o  hex  Irniioea  torn 


Tha  «llk  Btar-brt>ldcr"il  covertlil 

Uiila  licr  HiDtw  llaeir  ilai  ll  IlialllJ 
Latiguiilly  ever ;  ai»i,  Hlllld 


tiguidly  e* 
let  mil  I 


arhBorily-aliailoWdarm 
uuetliemnuiciiiill'light; 


Ilglll- 

ni«  Bleep:   Lcr  lirunUiiugs  are 

In  palme  chambers  tar  apart. 
niB  traamiil  intttt  nr«  nol  Btlir'il 


iuged    pillow   ll^lly 


81]eB[eeu>,n< 
X  purlMt  1 


At.L  prwioni  tMngi.  illecoTor'd  lite. 

And  drawa  ilia  vull  from   Lldilen 

He  trarels  far  ttom  olhar  ritlea— 
HIh  turn  tie  i;Ulter»  on  ihe  nwka — 

A  fairy  Prince,  witli  Joyful  eyef, 
Aud  li8ble>fwted  tUiui  Uia  fox. 


Ht  truato  it,  light  oil  Kinistlilng  &f 
For  all  hie  life  t£e  chinn  did  uSk 


i   hla 


be 


MiMtiu  MubU  in  lila  beart 

lultk  iJiil  qiikktr,  Ull  lis  I 

■IttlHl  I'liHRiI.er  far  apHrt, 

lritlli>ll«nllkeaUrk. 

>tiKi|iB— to  kip»  bvr— oil  hla  knew  g 

bIdilHU  eymi  inusi 


1  IthD  charm  WM  mapt.  J 
uolHofatiikltigdorEa,! 
lui  ancldoorathatclapt,! 


The  lire  nhiit  Dp,  the  martin  Sew, 
Tbo  paiTot  Bcreaiu'd,   the   pencock 
■auall'd. 

The  mnld  and  page  renewM  llieir  Btrlfe, 
The  palace  oniig'd,  and  buitiA'd  aiui 

And  all  Ihv  lollg'pent  itreani  of  life 
And  last  vltb  theie  ilie  king  nooke. 


By?tiily' 


ily  rood,  b.  royal  beard  t 
How  Bay  you  V  we  have  alopt,  my  lord!, 

My  bescd  baa  grown  Into  my  lap." 
The  baron  awora.  with  many  wtin!«, 

'Iwua  but  au  nf te»[lnuer'a  uBip. 


Tardy."  returned  (bo   king,    I'bat 


t 


THE  DAY  DREAM 


73 


And  far  across  tlie  hills  they  went 
In  that  new  world  which  is  the  old : 

Across  the  hills,  and  far  away 
Beyond  their  utmost  purple  rim, 

And  deep  into  the  dying  day 
The  happy  princess  followed  him. 

II. 

'*  I'd  sleep  another  hundred  years, 

O  love,  for  such  another  kiss ; " 
**  O  wake  for  ever,  love,"  she  hears. 

*'  O  love,  'twas  such  as  this  and  this." 
And  o'er  them  many  a  sliding  star. 

And  many  a  merry  wind  was  home, 
And,  stream'd  thro'  many  a  golden  bar, 

The  twilight  melted  into  morn. 

III. 

"  O  eyes  long  laid  in  happy  sleep  ! " 

^  O  happy  sleep,  that  lightly  tied ! " 
"  O  happy  kiss,  that  woke  thy  sleep ! " 

**0  love,  thy  kibs  would  wake  the 
dead!" 
And  o'er  them  many  a  flowing  range 

Of  vapour  buoy'd  the  crescent-bark, 
And.  rapt  thro'  many  a  rosy  change, 

The  twilight  died  into  the  dark. 

IV. 

**  A  hundred  summers  !  can  it  be  ? 

And  whither  goest  thou,  tell  me 
where  ?" 
**  O  seek  my  father's  court  with  me, 

For  there  are  greater  wonden*  there," 
And  o'er  the  hills,  and  far  away 

Beyond  their  utmost  purple  rim, 
Beyond  the  night,  across  the  day, 

Tbro'  all  the  world  she  follow'd  him. 

MORAL. 

I. 

So.  Lady  Flora,  take  my  lay. 

And  if  you  find  no  moral  there. 
Go,  look  in  any  glass  and  say. 

What  moral  is  in  being  fair. 
O,  to  what  uses  shall  we  put 

The  wildweed- flower  that  simply 
blows? 
And  is  there  any  moral  shut 

Within  the  bosom  of  the  rose  ? 

ir. 
But  any  man  that  walks  the  mead, 

In  bud  or  blade,  or  bloom,  may  find, 
According  as  his  humors  lead, 

A  meaning  suited  to  his  mind. 
And  liberal  applications  lie 

In  Art  like  Nature,  dearest  friend ; 
So  'twere  to  cramp  its  use,  if  I 

ShoiUd  hook  it  to  some  useful  eiid. 

L'EN'VOI, 

I. 

Toa  shake   your  head.    A  random 
string 

Tour  finer  female  sense  offends. 
Well— were  it  not  a  pleasant  tiling 

To  fall  asleep  with  all  one's  friends ; 
Topass  with  ail  our  social  ties 

1^  Mlenoe  from  the  paths  of  men ; 
Aad  every  bandied  years  to  rise 


And  learn  the  world,  and  sleep  again, 
To  sleep  thro'  terms  of  mighty  wars. 

And  wake  on  science  grown  to  more, 
On  secrets  of  the  brain,  the  stars. 

As  wild  as  aught  of  fairy  lore ; 
And  all  that  else  the  years  will  show. 

The  Poet-forms  of  stronger  hours, 
The  vast  Kepublics  that  may  grow, 

The  Federations  and  the  rowel's  *, 
Titanic  forces  tiiking  birth 

In  divers  seasons,  divers  climes  ; 
For  wc  are  Ancients  of  the  earth. 

And  iu  the  morning  of  the  times* 

n, 
So  sleeping,  so  aroused  from  sleep 

Thro'  sunny  decades  new  and  sirange. 
Or  gay  quinqueiiniads  would  we  reap 
The    nower    and    quintessence  of 
change. 

III. 

Ah.  yet  would  I— and  would  I  might ! 

So  much  your  eyes  my  fancy  take- 
Be  still  the  iirst  to  leap  to  light 

That  I  n'ight  kiss  those  eyes  awake  ! 
For,  am  I  right,  or  am  1  wrung. 

To  choose  your  own  you  di<l  not  care ; 
You'd  have  my  moral  from  the  song. 

And  I  will  take  my  pleasure  there  : 
And,  am  I  right  or  am  1  wrong. 

My  fancy,  ranging  thro'  and  thro*. 
To  search  a  meaning  for  the  song. 

Perforce  will  still  revert  to  you  ; 
Nor  finds  a  closer  truth  than  this 

All-graceful  head,  so  richly  curl'd, 
And  evermore  a  costly  kiss 

The  prelude  to  some  brighter  world. 

TV. 

For  since  the  time  when  Adam  first 

Embraced  his  £ve  in  happy  hour. 
And  every  bird  of  Eden  burst 

In  carol,  every  bud  to  flower, 
What  eyes,  like  thine,  have  waken'd 
hopes  ? 

What  lips,  like   thine,  so  sweetly 
join'd? 
Where  on  the  double  rosebud  droops 

The  fulness  of  the  pensive  mind  : 
Which  all  too  dearly  self-involved. 

Yet  sleeps  a  dreamless  sleep  to  me ; 
A  sleep  by  kisses  undissolved. 

That  lets  thee  neither  hear  nor  see  : 
But  break  it.    In  the  name  of  wife, 

And  in  the  rights  that  name  may 
give, 
Are  clasp'd  the  moral  of  thy  life. 

And  that  for  which  I  care  to  live. 

EPILOGUE. 

So,  Lady  Flora,  take  my  lay. 

And,  if  you  find  a  meaning  there, 
O  whisper  to  your  glass,  and  say, 

**  What  wonder,  if   he   thiiiks  me 
fair  ?  " 
Wliat  wonder  I  was  all  unwise. 

To  shape  the  song  for  your  delight 
Like  long-tail'd  birds  of  Paradise, 

That  float  thro*  Ileaven,  and  cannot 
light? 


ST.  AGNES'  EVE. 


Or  old-vorld  tFBlni.  nplield  at  oonrt 
By  Ciipid't>oy>  of  bloomiiia  bus  — 

Bdl  take  It— eaniesi  wed  wWi  Bpor 
Aud  elUiai  sacieil  uiiki  jou. 


fvfatliorleftnpni 
fiulitl,»lidiiua 

A  EilnlQIl  too  with  ECBtCH  u.  ttoo, 

Iti»iiotbadiStBoo.llBiid,  ^ 

Aiid  111  It  IB  tile  nenii  ot  all 

I'lutgrovri  wluilu  Uia  woodland. 
O  had  I  llfed  when  mil j  wo*  great 

III  days  ol  old  Amphloii, 
And  u'Bn  my  Hddlo  to  the  g' ' 

And  hull  1  lived  when  Boni:  w 
And  legs  of  trees  were  linil 

And  ta'eii  xny  flildlo  to  tlie  gi 
And  fiddlBd  in  the  timbei  1 

TIs  snid  ha  had  a  tnnefui  tor 


■oalnpplunipM  Iho 
clouilj'  liollow. 
&nd  w.iBirc  ic  jipight  to  act, 

tiks  soma  great  landslip,  irou  by  liee, 

Iha  conntr;--8ldo  descendid ; 
^nd  BheplieTiIq  from   the  moantoln- 

Loiilt'd    down,  bolf-pleased,    LalC' 
tLlghteiiM, 
\a  liasTi'd  nhout  tha  drunken  lenvea 

"" iidoni  lunahlna  lightou'dl 

ire  lint  nae  freih  to  noii, 


So  fonUiful  anil  bo  flex-.le  then. 


rat  jour  plea 
!    Utlale  1     Dhi 


ais  and  tendona. 

my  whistle  i 

til  thrve-paiia-dck 


yilh.trummL 

A  Jaokass  heehaws  from  the  ric 

The  pUBBlTe  oiau  giipiiig. 
But  what  le  that  I  hear  ?  a  eoun 

UkoBleepveoniiseipiaadiug; 
O    LordI  — "lia    iu    nij    iieighlJoBil 

TSmoilem  Mi 


.  -.A  Botnnio  Treatiseat 

id   Works    on    GudouIHK    Sui 

Methodsof  tranaplanllns  treei. 


tKS 

ulViii^eirH^Tn''"^ 

Ami  Hbu> 

Bnt  those 

tho'  fed  with  carelol  flirt. 

llfllr-coiieclousofthegBiiLMq'uiit, 

DSi-gs'sisrsEj- 

The  vikB 

herb  that  runs  to  se^ 

3  iiatlro  fouutaln. 

And  I  mw 
Aiiil  yea 

t  work  tltro'  montlM  o[  KdL 

ni^rt 

Mayinyaonllolloiv 
TbueliBdow»o£tlei..(. 

SUlldrefpliigniihihi 


the  fi'osfy  nil.'f.  "  "'     '""'^ 
list  Biiowdron  ol  tlie  yCEr 

i  wbita  lobct  aca  MlI'd  and 


EDWARD  GJ^!AY, 


75 


To  Tontlcr  shining  grotind ; 
Ab  this  pale  taper's  earthly  spark, 

To  yonder  argent  round  ; 
So  shuws  my  soul  before  the  Lamb, 

My  spirit  Def ore  Thee  ; 
So  in  mine  earthly  house  I  am, 

To  that  I  hope  to  be. 
Creak  up  the  heayens,  O  Lord  !  and 
far, 

Thro*  all  von  starlight  keen. 
Draw  me,  thy  bride,  a  glittering  star, 

lu  raiment  wiiite  and  clean. 

He  lifts  me  to  the  golden  doors ; 

The  llasliei  come  and  go  ; 
All  heaven  bursts  her  sia.-ry  floors, 

And  strews  her  lichts  below, 
And  deepens  on  and  up  !  the  gates 

KoU  back,  and  far  within 
For   me    the    Heavenly   Dridcfjroom 
waits. 

To  make  mc  pure  of  sin. 
The  sabbaths  of  Ktcrnity, 

One  sabbath  deep  and  wide 
A  light  upon  the  shining  feix  — 

Tlxe  Bridegroom  with  his  bride  I 

SIR  GALAHAD. 

Xly  good  blodo  carves  the  casques  of 
men. 

My  tough  lance  thrusteth  sure, 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten. 

Because  my  heart  is  pure. 
The  shattering  trumpet shrillelh  high, 

The  hard  brands  shiver  on  the  steel. 
The  splintered  spear-shafts  crack  una 

fly. 

The  horse  and  rider  reel : 
They  reel,  they  roll  in  clanrfng  lists. 

And  when  the  tide  of  combat  stands, 
Perfume  and  llowei'S  fall  in  showers, 

That  lightly  rain  from  ladies'  liando. 

How  sweet  are  looks  that  ladies  bend 

On  whom  their  favors  fall  ! 
For  them  I  battle  till  the  end, 

To  save  from  shame  and  thrall : 
But  all  my  heart  ij  drawn  above, 

My  knees  are  bow'd  in  crypt  and 
shrine: 
I  never  felt  the  kiss  of  love, 

Kor  maiden's  hand  in  mine. 
More  bounteous  aspects  o!i  me  beam, 

Mo  mightier  transports  move  and 
thrill ; 
Co  keep  I  fair  thro*  faith  and  prayer 

A  virgin  heart  in  work  and  will. 

"VThen  down  the  stormy  crescent  goes, 

A  light  before  me  swims. 
Between  dark  stems  the  forest  glows, 

I  hear  a  noiso  of  hymns : 
Then  by  some  secret  shrine  I  ride  ; 

I  hear  a  voice,  but  none  are  there : 
The  stalls  are  void,  the  doors  are  wide, 

lite  tapers  burning  fair. 
Fair  gleams  the  snowy  altar  cloth, 

The  silver  ves«*els  sparkle  clean. 
The  shrill  bell  rings,  the  censer  swin'-s, 

Ard    rolemu   chants    resound  be- 
tween* 


Sometimes  on  lonely  mountaln-meres 

I  Und  a  magic  bark  ; 
I  leap  on  board:  no  helmsman  steers: 

I  float  till  all  is  dark. 
A  gentle  sound,  and  awful  light ! 

Three  nneels  bear  the  holy  Giail  s 
With  folded  feet,  in  stoles  of  white. 

On  sleeping  wings  they  sail. 
Ah,  blessed  vision  !  blood  of  God  ! 

Mv  spiiit  beats  her  mortal  bars. 
As  down  dark  titles  the  glory  slides. 

And  star-like  mingles  with  the  stars 

TThen  on  my  goodly  charger  borne 

Thro'  dreaming  towns  1  go, 
The  cock  crows  ere  the  Christmas 
morn, 

The  streets  are  dumb  with  snow. 
The  tempest  crackles  on  the  leads. 

And,  niiging,  springs  from  brand  and 
mail ; 
But  o'er  the  dark  a  glory  spreads. 

And  gilds  tbe  driving  hail. 
I  leave  the  plain,  1  climb  the  height ; 

Ko  branchy  thicket  shelter  yields  ; 
But  blessed  forms  in  whistling  storms 

Fly  o'er  waste  feus  and  windy  ^elds 

A  maiden  knight— to  me  is  given 

Such  hope,  1  know  not  fear ; 
I  yearn  to  breathe  the  airs  of  heaven 

That  often  meet  me  here. 
I  muse  on  you  that  will  not  cease. 

Pure  spaces  clothed  in  living  beamsi 
Pure  lilies  of  eternal  peace, 

Whose  odors  haunt  my  dreams ; 
And,  stricken  by  an  angd'o  hand,- 

This  mortal  armor  that  I  wear. 
This  weight  and  size,  this  heart  and 
eyes, 

Are  touch'd,  arc  tuni'd  to  Unest  air. 

The  clouds  are  broken  in  the  sky. 

And  tliro'  iho  mountain-walls 
A  rolling  organ-harmony 

Swells  up,  and  shakes  and  falls. 
Then  move  the  trees,  the  copses  nod, 

Wings  flutter,  voices  hover  clear  : 
*'  O  just  and  faithful  knight  of  God  I 

liide  on  !  the  prize  is  near." 
So  pass  1  hostel,  hall,  and  grange  ; 

By  bridge  and  ford,  by  park  and  pale^ 
All-arm' (.1-1  lide,  whate'er  betide, 

UnUl  I  And  the  holy  Grail. 


EDWABD    GKAY. 

Sweet   Emma  Moreland   of  yonder 
town 
Met  me  walkinpc  on  yonder  way, 
**  And  have  you  lost  your  heart  ?  "  she 
said, 
"  And  are  you  married  yet,  Edward 
Gray?" 

Sweet  Emma  Moreland  spoke  to  me  : 
Bitterly  weeping  1  turn'd  away  : 

**  Sweet  Lmma  MoTe\anv\,\o\e  wo  tcvox^ 
Ciui  touch  the  heart  otEOkwai^Cixa.'j, 


\FJLL  WATERPROOF'S  LYRICAL  ilONOLOGUE. 


sr  eold ; 


, , .-anhou 

"^By  EUei.'B  Brave,  un 

TlinughCIier  |inind,aiiii  ucuuvei  um 

I    Fiir J  I'wB'  "'"'  '""y  »"•'  'f "'/ 

L  <■  Cinet,  cruel  tlie  words  I  Slid  I 
UrUBllJ  tanie  Uiav  Uauk  lo-dHy  ; 
•Toa'KtoosllglitBiiJ  nchle/fiiiilil, 
■To  trouble  Una  luiarl  o£   Edward 

"  TLera  I  put  my  ttxe  In  Ihe  nrass— 

WhlBpeed. '  Linen  10  luy  despair : 
I  TEp«nt  me  ol  all  I  did  : 

tipeak  a  little,  KUeii  Adnir!' 
"Tbeiiltook  a  pencil,  mid  wralB 

On  tbe  moBiy  Btoiic,  hb  1  lay, 
■Hun  lies  tbe  body  ul  Klleu  Aitalr; 

Aiiil  here  UielieanuriiMwanKi  ray  1  ' 
"Love  may  come,  and  lore  may  go, 
tudfly.llke  s  bird,  from  tree  totnw! 


Siitl  1 


11  lov 


Till  EUeuAdikli 
"  Bitterly  wept  T  o»er  thi 

•■■'■.erfywemdngltur; 


backtu 


p  bead  iialter  at  Thu  Cock, 


f  But  such  vfhoBo  faiher-grape  p4w  tat 


S01 


n  libation  tc 


mitko  me  t 


11  be  kind 
ivcly  woida,  ana 

IB  ball-fo'rgotlen : 
*"'i'Llail"bo'tipeiiudrotIoii.'"  ' 
J  pledffo  lier,  aTi< 


d  inya  It  tbrlcu 


mSi"-'' 
bJiiiil  the  charm  LaTepowtjr  I1 
New  llfeblood  warm  llic  buai 


'd  lip»  ol  m 


lipn, 


/ 


SlfaTiSii 


Old  wlahei,  shoalB  tyt  brokeu  plain. 

And  pbnnloEtk  bopioi  aajiemblo ; 
Aiidiha.1  rliild'alieort  witliiii  tbeman^ 


lUccurreut  al  my  days :  "* 

I  kiaa  Ibe  llue  I  once  have  ktfs'di 

The  gBa-llKhtwavendimmer. 
And  softly,  thro'  a  vinous  mist. 

My  collie  frieudslilps  glliDawr. 
I  STOW  In  iFortli.  and  -nic,  oud  aeuaa. 

iTnbodiug  oriUc-pen, 
Or  Uiat  eternal  watit  of  penes, 

'Wlio  bold  UielrWiida  to  aA,  anil  riy 

For  that  which  all  deny  them— 
Wlio  aneep  the  crDsdiie,  wet  or  dry. 

And  all  Uio  world  eo  by  them. 
Ah  yet.  llio'  all  the  world  roraake, 

T&uT>.nuiiecllpmywii,gs,    ^ 
1  uill  not  cramp  my  heart,  nor  taka 

Hflir-vlBwa  of  men  and  tllinm. 
Let  Whig  and  Tory  silr  their  Llood: 

Tliere  must  be  stormy  weather  J 
But  tor  some  trne  result  at  good 

All  p.-iities  work  togethct. 


This  ivhola  wide  eaitli  ol   ligm  and 


The  pint,  y»u  braiight  tne,  waa  thAbM 

That  HVI.T  Hune  from  pipe. 
But  tho*  tha  uort  aurpssses  praise. 

My  nervL-i  hare  riealt  with  stlflqi. 
IB  there  some  magic  In  the  pbue  ¥ 

Or  do  luy  peptica  dUIerV 
For  FlncB  I  rame  to  live  and  leam. 

No  pint  o(  whit*  or  red 
llBil  ever  hall  the  power  to  torn 

This  wheel  within  my  head, 
Which  beiLrs  a  ■ra'On'd  braiu  sboatt 

Un»ubject  lo  conrniion, 
Tho'  Bonx'd  and  aatnrate.  out  and  mt, 


As  who  shall  say  lue  uay : 


WILL  WATERPROOrS  LYRICAL  MONOLOGUE.      tt 


month,  a  birth-day  coming  on. 
We  driuk  defying  trouble. 
Or  ■ometinies  two  would  meet  in  one, 
And  then  we  drank  it  double  ; 

Whether  the  vintAgc,  yet  unlcept, 

Had  relish  tiery-iicw, 
Or,  elbow-deep  in  sawdust,  slept, 

As  old  as  Waterloo ; 
Or  stow'd  (when  classic  Canning  died) 

In  musty  bins  and  chambers, 
Had  cast  upon  its  crusty  side 

The  gloom  of  ten  Decembera. 

Tlio  Muse,  the  Jolly  Muse,  it  is  I 

SheaiMwer'd  to  my  call, 
She  changes  wiih  that  mood  or  this, 

is  all-in-all  to  all  : 
She  lit  the  spark  within  my  throat. 

To  make  my  blood  run  quicker. 
Used  all  her  Uei^  will,  and  smote 

Her  life  into  the  liquor. 

And  hence  this  halo  lives  about 

The  waiter's  hands,  that  reach 
To  each  his  perfect  pint  of  stout, 

His  proper  chop  to  each. 
He  looks  not  like  the  common  breed 

That  with  the  napkin  dally ; 
I  think  he  came  like  Ganymede, 

From  some  delightful  valley. 

The  Cock  was  of  a  larger  egg 

Than  nio<leni  i>oultry  drop, 
Stept  forward  on  a  tirnier  leg, 

And  cramm'd  a  plumper  crop: 
Upon  an  ampler  dunghill  trod, 

Crow*d  lustier  late  and  eai-ly, 
Sipt  wine  from  silver,  prainingGod, 

And  mked  in  golden  bailey. 

A  private  life  was  all  his  joy, 

Till  in  a  court  he  saw 
A  wnnething-pottle-lKxlied  boy 

Tliat  knuckled  at  the  tuw  : 
He  stoon'd  and  clutch'd  hiui,  fair  and 
good, 

Flew  over  roof  and  casement  : 
Hitf  brothers  of  the  weather  stood 

Stock-tftill  for  sheer  amazement. 

But  he,   by   farmstead,   thorpe   and 
spire. 

And  followM  witli  acclnims, 
A  sisni  to  many  astarinc  Kbire 

Caine  crowing  over  'J'hames, 
Bight  down  by  smoky  Paul's  they  Iwre, 

Till,  where  the  street  gi'ows  straiter. 
One  flxM  for  ever  at  the  door, 

And  one  became  head-waiter. 


But  whither  would  my  fancy  go  ? 

How  out  of  place  she  makes 
The  violet  of  a  legend  blow 

Among  the  chons  and  steaks  I 
*T\a  but  a  stewara  of  the  can. 

One  shade  more  plump  than  com- 
mon; 
As  just  and  mere  a  sewing-man 

As  any,  born  of  woman. 

2  ranged  too  high :  what  draws  me  down 

Into  the  common  day  ? 
Isit  thetralglit  of  that  half-crown, 


Which  I  shall  have  to  pay  ? 
For  something  duller  than  at  first, 

ICor  wholly  comfortable, 
I  sit  (my  empty  glass  reversed), 

And  thrumming  on  the  table  : 

Half  fearful  that,  with  self  at  strife 

1  take  myself  to  task  ; 
Lest  of  the  f  ulu'jss  of  my  life 

I  leave  an  empty  flnsK  : 
For  I  had  hope,  by  something  rare. 

To  ])rove  mvself  a  poet : 
But  while  I  plan  and  plan,  my  hair 

Is  gray  before  I  know  iL 

So  faro  it  since  the  vears  began. 

Till  they  be  galherVi  un  ; 
The  truth,  that  Hies  the  flowing  can, 

Will  haunt  the  vacant  cup  : 
And  others*  follies  teach  us  not, 

Kor  nmch  tlieir  wisdom  teaches  ; 
And  most,  of  sterling  worth,  is  what 

Our  own  experience  preaches. 

Ahu  let  tlie  rusty  theme  alone  I 

we  know  not  what  we  know. 
But  for  my  pleasant  hour,  'tis  gone, 

'Tisgone,  and  let  it  go. 
'Tis  gone  :  a  thousand  such  have  slipt 

Away  from  my  embraces, 
And  fall'n  into  the  dusty  ciypt 

Of  darken'd  fonus  and  faces. 

Go,  therefore,  thou!  thy  betters  went 

Long  since,  and  came  no  more  ; 
With  i)eals  of  genial  clamor  sent 

From  many  a  tavern-iloor  ; 
With  twisted  quirks  and  happy  hits. 

From  misty  men  of  letters  ; 
Tlie  tavern-hours  of  miiihty  wits — 

Thine  elders  and  thy  betters. 

Hours,  when  the   Poet's   words   and 
looks 

Had  yet  their  native  glow  : 
Nor  yet  the  fear  of  little  books 

Had  made  him  talk  for  show  ; 
But,  all  his  vast  heart  sherris-warm'd. 

He  flash'd  his  random  speeches  ; 
Ere  days,  that  deal  in  ana,  swurm'd 

His  literary  leeches. 

So  mix  for  ever  with  the  past. 

Like  all  good  things  on  earth  ! 
For  should  1  prize  thee,  couldst  tliou 
last. 

At  half  thy  real  worth  ? 
I  hold  it  good,  good  things  should  pass: 

With  time  1  will  not  quarrel  : 
It  is  but  yonder  empty  ^lass 

That  makes  ine  maiidlin-moral. 

Head-waiter  of  the  chop-house  here, 

To  which  I  most  resort, 
I  too  must  i>art :  I  hold  thee  dear 

For  this  good  pint  of  port. 
For  this,  thou  shalt  from  all  things 
suck 

Marrow  of  mirth  and  laughter ; 
And,  whereso'er  thou  move,  good  luck 

Shall  ding  her  old  shoo  after* 

But  thou  wilt  never  move  from  hencO) 


\ 


ro  UiT  fate  allot 


|i 


In  hB.uiiu  ot  huDgry  sli 
lid  boies.  lanlnl  Willi  Uiu  eieam 

Of  Uiirty  Ihouaaud  diuuBC*, 
We  fret,  ice  fuma,  would  olilft   our 

Wuuldqnanel  with  onr  lot ! 

riip  cure  iB,  uiiilvi'  polisU'd  ttu), 

To  tnve  lie  lun-BiwHiot ; 
„o«iine  and  BO.  Mid  comeogalii, 

Keciiniliia  liltB  tha  pewit, 
And  wBtch^  liy  BtJeut  gentiemen, 

TbaC  liiUo  wlCli  Uie  cruot, 
LItb  lona,  erctrom  thrtopmostlieiid  . 


CLAnE. 

NoblaKin'ditntesmiinlip,  nor  ilng, 
Ue  gave  tlie  people  of  his  bt'Sl  ; 
His  wonil  lie  kept.  Ms  beat  lie  giiT 


Tho  little  life  0 

'J'liel>lnl  that  pipia  Ilia  lone  di^s 
And  dies  Dnlieard  wltLin  hlB  tl'ea. 
Than  he  Uiat  wirblea  longsruJ  loud 


Tin  inollow  HeaUi.liXe  xnin 
Shall  call  Ihee  from  the  1h 

Snt when  he  callB,  and  Ihon  I 
To  pace  Ihegillteil  Uoor, 

And,  laying  dowr  - 

OCllCe.  BhnUea 

Ko  carve'   

■■  -.owtneapi 

■Ed    CrOBB-J 

pint-pot  neatly 
TO    - 


Shall  Bh 


Top  nileht  hare  von  Uie  Foet'a  name 
If  Blleh  be  wotlh  the  winning  now, 
Anilral"''!  a  laurel  foryourhrow 

Of  Bonnder  leaf  thaji  1  can  claim  ; 

But  Ton  hnve  made  tlia  wiser  cliolra. 
Thio'ti-pnpuofnHracordiuB  (rieudf 


Of  Ihoae  that  wear  the  Foefs  crow 
Hereafter,  nellher  kuaTo  nor  clow 
Shall  hold  Iheir  orgiaB  at  your  tomb, 
For  D-1W  the  Poet  cannot  ille 
Nor  leaie  hie  muBic  aa  of  old, 
But  roam!  him  ere  he  Bear™  bo  cc 
Seglna  the  if  aiidal  and  Iho  riy  : 

Break  loFkandxealTbetinythelrui 

Keep  nothing  eacr«l  :  'tiK  but  Junl 

Tha  many-lieaJddbeaal  should  knon 

Ab  sIiflmeLcBB  1  for  he  did  tnit  bI'ie 

A   sonn  Ihal   pleoEud   ub   from 

2^0  public  life  was  his  oa  «aith. 


TO  E.  I_,  ON  HIS  TKATELS  Et 

GHEECE. 

iLLYniAS  woodlnnda,  echdngfalTa 

Of  water,  elieeia  ut  annimer  als— 
'i'he  hniK  divine  Pexeian  |>nes, 

The  vu^t  Akinterauuiau  walla. 

Tomohrlt.  AlhoB.  all  thlnf*  fair, 
Tuu  (hadow  %tSi  to  dlBtsn^ml 


The' 

By  fountalu-nrui :— and  Koladi  ooi'it.    ] 
A  Elimmerlng  Bhouldernnder  erlooDi 

^-    --  ^.,-._  .  --.^^Bwell 

id  fell  i 


ftElimmeringFh  .     . 

Of  lavern  pill«i-»  ;  on  the  ewell 
""       ilvorllly  heaved  and  fell ; 

Liiy  aalopewai  ricbln  bloom. 

~  By  dancing  rlvulel 


To  !iiu 


1  to  the  t 


11  upon  (he  rotJa, 


And  cl^uuB  are  uiguesi  up  in  air. 
Lord  Boiiald  bmugUt  a  lily-wbttB  doe 

To  give  hie  conalii,  Lady  Clare. 
I  trow  thay  did  not  part  In  acom  ! 

Ixivera  long-betrom'd  were  they  : 
Tliey  too willwed  tha  morrow mutn 

Uod'a  bleBBlns  on  the  day  ! 
"He  does  not  love  me  tor  my  birth. 

Nor  for  my  landa  ao  broad  and  fair, 
Heloveamefor  my  own  true  worth. 

And  that  la  well,"  said  Lady  Clara. 
In  there  came  old  Alice  Uia  nur 


THE  LOUD  Of  BUBLEtGB. 


7» 


"OOodlMlhuilc'dl"  Hdd  Alice  llie 

'■  Tbat  all  cornea  round  so  lost  and 
fair; 
Lonl  Ronald  Is  faclr  o(  all  four  lands, 
Aod  jou  BTC  uoC  tlia  Lau^  Clu«." 

GaidLadjr  Clare,  "  UiaC  ;e  speali  « 
'•  kt  Qod'i   abOTc,"   said  Alles   the 

"1  speak  the  tmtli :  you  are  my 
"  The  old  Eail'i  dangUter  died  aC  my 


Aud  put  my  chll 
"  Falaely,  falialy  hnvo  ye  dono. 
O  mother,"  (be  eaid,  '•  U  this  be 


And  all  you  haye  wlU  be  Lonl  Itun- 
Bld'a, 

When  you  an  man  and  ^ite." 
■•  If  I'm  abegiar  bom,"  aha  said, 

■■  I  will  Bueak  out,  for  I  dare  not  He. 
Pull  off.  pull  olT,'the  brooch  of  gold. 

And  fliiig  the  diamond  necklace  by," 
•>  Kay  nov,  my  Child,"  uld  Alice  the 

"  But  krep  the  Bacret  all  ye  can." 
She  eald,  •'  Kot  so  :  but  1  will  know 
It  tbece  be  any  laltta  In  idsu  " 
lf*7  nov,  what  faith  1"  eaid  Alice 
cleave  nuto  hla 
It,"  the  lady  re- 
to-nlght." 


"  The    man    will 
right." 
*  And  be  ahall  bavi 
piled, 
"  Tbo'  I  ihould  dl< 

"Yet  give  one  kiu 

dearl 
Alas,  my  child,  I  elnn'd  for  thee<" 
■•  ^)  motiier,    mother,    mutbei,"   aba 
•aid, 
"  8a  atnnge  it  aeema  to  me. 
"  Tet  here's  a  kiet  for  my  mother  dear. 
And  lay  Jour  hanA  upon  my  head. 

She  clad  henelf  In  a  must  gown, 
Slie  waa  no  longer  tjidy  Clure  : 
Sha  went  by  daEi,  and  the  went  by 

Vlth  adngla  roae  in  her  balr. 
the  Uly-wblle  doe  Lord  Bonald  bad 
broaHU 


'If  Ii 


Leapt  up  from  where  she  lay, 
Dropt  her  bead  In  the  inaiden^s  han^ 

And  follow'd  her  all  tlie  way. 
Down  atept  Ix>td   Uouald   from  hi* 

"  O   Lajy   Clare,  yon  shame  your 
■Vl^y   come  you  diest  like  a  Tillage 
That  aia  the  fiowec  of  the  earth  ?" 
It  like  a  village  niali^ 

'  And  not  the  Lady  Clare." 

■lay  taa  no  tricks,"  eaid  Lord  Boo- 

'  For  I  am  youta  la  word   and  In 
deed. 

ly  me  no  tricks,"  said  Lord  Don- 
ald. 
"  Voar  riddle  Is  hard  to  read." 

nd  proudly  Blood  eho  np  I 

Icr  Iianrt  wltblii  her  ill  J  not  fall  i 
:d  Itonald^B  eyes. 


Ind  told  blm  all  her 


L  lau^  ol  incrry  aconi ; 
1  and  klsa'd  bar  whei« 


'  If  you  are  not  th 
■    d  I,"  said  he. 


Wet^v 

And  you  shall  sllll  be  Lady  Clara." 

THE  LO&D  OF  BOBLEIQH.      , 
tJ  her  ear  he  whiepers  gayly, 

"  If  my  heart  by  Bignscaii  tell. 
Maiden.  I  have  watcC'd  Uice  dally, 

And  I  tliink  tliou  lov'st  me  «ell." 

"  There  Is  none  1  love  like  diee." 
He  la  but  a  landscape  painter, 

Andavlll^emaSlenBbe. 
He  to  llpa.  that  fondly  falter. 

Presses  bis  wiUiont  reproof : 
Leads  her  la  the  village  alLir, 

"  I  can  make  no  marriage  present : 

Little  can  I  give  my  wlfu. 
Love  will  make  our  cottage  pteaaant, 

And  I  lova  Ihee  more  Uian  life." 
They  bv  paiks  and  lodges  going 

See  the  Ictdly  castles  aland ! 
Summer  woods,  about  them  blowing, 

Made  aniuriDur  in  tbe  land. 
From  deep  tlioaght  lilmself  he  rousck 

Savs  10  her  that  loves  him  well, 
"  Let  us  see  these  handsome  houses 

Where  the  wealthy  nobles  dwell." 
So  slie  gocB  by  him  attended. 

Heats  lilm  lovingly  converse. 
Sees  whaiever  (air  and  splendid 

Lay  betwixt  bis  home  and  hers  ; 
Farks  wltli  oak  and  chestnut  shady, 

Paike  and  order'd  gardens  great, 
Ancient  homes  ol  lord  aii4\!ui^, 

Built  for  plaaaura  aiid  tot  alaJA, 


V 


AIL  tie  bIidwb  tier  mabes  Mm 
On  lUot  toltage  gpiwlrg  iicai 


Keshan 


Than 


beiieatli  lil»  rouf  Umy  oon 
chenrlKJoieirsgrBallj. 
n  gBtBway  the  auceiiu 
aiinoilal  biuii-iiigB  stslelT, 

III  more  majeBlJc 


Many  a  eallant  (>■; 

Bows  fief  Ota  lilm 
AiiJ  tbflv  sneak  in  centte  nxiinnnr, 

Wlion  Ibey  answer  lo  b'-  call, 
White  be  treads  nitli  fuDtbieii  drmor, 

l-aadliiK  oil  trim  Lnll  to  liall. 
And.  while  now  elio  Koii.leia  blindly, 

Not  Ills  LOeaiii»B  ™"  divine, 
Proudly  lurn*  lie  round  and  kindly, 

"  AirotlhialamlneHndtlllne." 
Eere  he  ll»e«  li.  Biatoand  buniitj, 

LonI  Ot  UllrlelEh,  fair  andfrea, 
Kol  a  lord  111  all  the  county 

iB  BO  great  a  lord  as  he. 


Pale  affain  aiidi.>alhdid  ni 


ndperplejidLflrf  111  gilt 

TFltl)  the  burden  or  ui  bon< 

Unto  wLlcli  ehe  wna  not  1 

Faint  BhB  grew  anderettn 


YTeBpiiiE.  wecplni;  liUn  mill  curly, 
Walkl7iguniin.lpiichiui|..>vii. 

Deeply  mourn'd  tliu  Lc.rdof  Burlol 
Burlelgli-houae  by  Sinn  Joni-tuvi 

And  be  cauie  to  look  upon  lier. 
And  lie  Ioo1t*d  at  lier  and  said 

"  Bring  the  dreaa  and  put  It  on  her 


Tbat  her  sjiirit  might  hi 

Sm  LAUNCELOT  AND  QDEES 
GUIUEVEKE. 

.ncE  Bonis  that  baianra  joy  and  win, 
IVitb  teat!  and  uiille»   fram    heav - 

rhe  maiden  Slirlng  upon  the  plain 
JauiHiii  a  nun-lit  &11  of  ralii. 

'Brywhere, 


if  heaven  lau^'il  betvi 


Blue  it 

Aiidfar.iiifoi'aBt-di    .      , 

The  luimiuac  elmtree  galher'd  grean 

Fl-oui  draughta  ul  balmy  alt. 
SomelinieB  tbo  Ilniiet  piped  hia  twng ; 


fl  groves   from  fea: 


iBllei 


By  grassy  i^psBwl      __ 

And  drooping  chestiiut^uds  baKiiu 
To  apread  iiuo  the  perfect  tun. 

Above  the  teeming  ground. 
Than,  In  Qte  boyhood  of  tlie  year. 
Sir  Launceiot  and  Queen  Gnfiieveii 
Kode  tbro'  the  cOTerls  of  tlie  deer. 
With  bliistut  treble  ringing  clear. 

She   eeeni'd   a   part   of    Joyi 
Spring ; 
A  gown  of  Braas^een  silk  aba  mm 

A  light-green  tuft  of  |il  uniei  slie  IwM 

Closed  ill  a  gDlOen  ring. 
Now  on  Bonie  twisted  Ivy-uet, 
Now  by  Bonio  tinkling  rivulet. 
In  mo»aea  milt  with  vlolBt 
Uorrreani'WhltonitilehlBiias 
Anil  lleetei  now  she  Bkim 

Tiian  slie  nboae  elfln  pranoc- 
By  niahtto  eery  wjitblliira, 
Wbeu   all  tlU)  gliiuuierCi^ 

■WiUi^inijline  bridle-reint 
As  Bhu  Heil  fiist  thro'  aun  and  abade. 
The  happy  winfla  upon  bar  plajrU 
Blonliig  tlie  rlnglec  Irani  tlui  bnda: 
She  looE'd  so  lovely,  aBKhOBIrW'd 

The  rein  with  dainty  flnMr-Oin^ 
A  man  bad  given  all  oilier  buiti, 
And  nil  bis  worlilly  wortli  fOrOilB, 


L  FAREWELL. 


Tliy  tribute  wnyo  deiive 


THE  VISION  OF  SIN. 


81 


No  where  by  thee  my  steps  shall  be» 
For  ever  aud  for  ever. 

But  here  will  sigh  thine  alder  tree. 
And  here  thine  aspen  shiver  ; 

And  here  by  thee  will  hum  the  bee, 
for  ever  and  for  ever. 

A  thousand  suns  will  stream  on  thee, 
A  thousand  moons  will  quiver: 

But  not  by  thee  my  steps  shall  be. 
For  ever  and  for  ever. 


THE  BEGGAR  MAID. 

ITER  arms  across  her  breast  she  laid ; 

She  was  more  fair  than  words  can 
say: 
Bare-tooted  came  the  beggar  maid 

Before  the  king  Cophetua. 
lu  robe   and  crowu  the   king   slept 
down. 

To  meet  and  greet  her  on  her  way ; 
"It  is  no  wonder,"  said  the  lords, 

"  She  is  more  beautiful  than  day." 

As  shines  the  moon  in  clouded  skies, 

She  in  her  poor  attire  was  seen: 
One  praised  her  ankles,  one  her  eyes, 

One   her   dark  hair   and   lovesome 
mien. 
So  sweet  a  face,  such  angel  grace. 

In  all  that  land  had  never  ueevu 
Cophetua  sware  a  royal  oath: 

"This    beggar   maid  shall   be   my 
queen  I " 

THE  VISION  OP  SIX. 
I. 

I  HAD  a  vision  when  the  night  was 

late; 
A  youth  came  riding  toward  a  palace- 
gate, 
lie  rode  ahorse  with  wings,  that  would 

have  flown, 
But  that  his  heavy  rider   kept   him 

down. 
Aud  from  the  palace  came  a  child  of 

sin, 
Aud  took  him  by  the  curls  and  let  him 

in, 
^Vhere   sat  a   company  with  heated 

eyes, 
Expecting   when   a  fountain   should 

arise: 
A  sleepy  light  upon  their  brows  and 

lips  — 
As  when  the  sun,  a  crescent  of  eclipse, 
l>reams  over  lake  and  lawn,  and  ittles 

and  capes  — 
Suffused  them,  sitting,  lyin^,  languid 

shapes. 
By  heaps  of  gourds,  and  skins  of  wine, 

aud  pilei  of  grapes. 

I  "• 

I     Then  methought  I  heard  a   mellow 

I  sound, 

I  Gathering   up   from    all    the    lower 

I  ground ; 

I  Narrowing  in  to  where  they  sat  as- 


sembled 


Low  voluptuous  music  winding  trero* 

bled, 
Wov'n  in  circles :  they  that  heard  it 

sigh'd. 
Panted  hand  in  hand  with  faces  pale. 
Swung  themselves/ and  in  low  tones 

replied ; 
Till  the  fountain  spouted,  showering 

wide 
Sleet  of  diamond-drift  and  pearly  hail; 
Then  the  music  touch'd  the  gates  and 

died  ; 
Bose  again  from  where  it  seem*d  to 

fail, 
Storm'd  in  orbs  of  song,  a  growing 

gale; 
Till  thronging  in  and  in,  to  where  they 

waited. 
As  'twere  a  hundred'-throated  nightin- 
gale. 
The      strong      tempestuous      treble 

throbb'd  and  palpitated ; 
Ban  into  its  giddiest  whirl  of  sound, 
Caught  the  sparkles,  and  in  circles. 
Purple  gauzes,  golden   hazes,  liquid 

mazes. 
Flung  the  torrent  rainbow  round: 
Then  they  started  from  their  places, 
Moved  with  violence,  changed  in  hue, 
Caught   each  other  with  wild  grim- 
aces. 
Half-invisible  to  the  view. 
Wheeling  with  precipitate  paces 
To  the  melody,  till  they  flew. 
Hair,  and  eyes,  and  limbs,  and  faces. 
Twisted  hard  in  flerce  embraces, 
Like  to  Furies,  like  to  Graces, 
I)ash*d  together  in  blinding  dew: 
Till,  klll'd  with  some  luxurious  agony, 
The  nerve-dissolving  melody 
Flutter'd  headlong  from  the  sky. 

in. 

And  then  I  look'd  up  toward  a  moun- 
tain-tract, 
That  girt  the  region  with  high  cliff  and 

lawn  : 
I  saw  that  every  morning,  far  with- 
drawn 
Beyond  the  darkness  and  the  cataract. 
God  made  himself  an  awful  rose  of 

dawn. 
Unheeded :    and   detaching,    fold   by 

fold, 
From  those  still  heights,  and,  slowly 

drawing  near, 
A    vapor   heavy,    hueless,    formless. 

cold, 
Came  floating  on  for  many  a  month 

and  year, 
Unheeded  :    and   1  thought   I  would 

have  spoken. 
And  wani'd  that  madman  ere  it  grew 

too  late : 
But,  as  in  dreams,  I  could  not.    Mine 

was  broken. 
When    that   cold  vapor   touch'd  the 

palace  gate. 
And  linked  again.  1  ««iNT  \iit2aL^XL  tscj 

head 


ODK-^INTEimATIONAL  EXHIBITION. 


83 


Hadam— if  I  know  your  sex. 
From  the  fashion  of  your  bones, 

"  No,  I  cannot  praise  the  fire 
In  your  eye— nor  yet  your  lip : 

All  the  more  do  I  admire 
Joints  of  cunning  workmanship. 

"  Lo  !  God*8  likeness  —  the  ground- 
plan— 

Keither  modeled,  glazed,  or  framed : 
Bu'-'S  me,  thou  rough  sketch  of  man. 

Far  too  naked  to  be  shamed  I 

"  Drink  to  Fortune,  drink  to  Chance, 
While  we  keep  a  little  breath  1 

I>riuk  to  heavy  Ignorance  ! 
Hob-and-nob  with  brother  Death  I 

**  Thou  art  mazed,  the  night  is  long, 
And  the  longer  night  is  near : 

What !  I  am  not  all  as  wrong 
As  a  bitter  jest  is  dear. 

"Youthful  hopes,  by  scores,  to  all. 
When  the  locks  are  crisp  and  curl'd ; 

Unto  me  my  maudlin  gall 
And  my  mockeries  oi  the  world. 

"Fill  the  cup,  and  fill  the  can  ! 

Mingl'3  madness,  mingle  scorn  ! 
Dregs  of  life,  and  lees  of  man  : 

Yet  wo  will  not  die  forlorn  I " 

V. 

The  voice  grew  faint :  there  came  a 
further  change  : 

Once  more  uprose  the  mystic  mountaiu- 
i-ange  : 

Below  were  men  and  horses  pierced 
with  worms, 

And   slowly   quickening    into    lower 
forms ; 

By  shards  and  scurf  of  salt,  and  scum 
of  dross. 

Old  plash  01  rains,  and  refuse  patch'd 
with  moss. 

Then  some  one  spake  :   « Behold  I  it 
was  a  crime 

Of  sense  avenged  by  sense  that  wore 
with  time.*^ 

Another  said :  <<  The  crime  of  sense  be- 
came 

The  crime  of  malice,   and   is   equal 
blame." 

And  one ;  * '  He  had  not  wholly  quench'd 
his  power ; 

A  little  eraiu  of  conscience  made  him 
sour." 

At  last  I  heard  a  voice  upon  the  slooe 

Cry  to  the  summit,   **  Is  there  any 
hope?" 

To  which  an  answer  peal'd  from  that 
high  land. 

But  in  a  tongue  no  man  could  under- 
stand; 

And  on  the  glimmering  limit  far  with- 
drawn 

God  made  Himself  an  awful  rose  cf 
dawn. 


Come  not,  when  I  am  dead. 
To  drop  thy  foolish  tears  upon  my 
grave. 


1 


To  trample  round  my  fallen  head. 
And   vex   the   unhappy  dust   thou 
wouldst  not  save. 
There   let  the  wind  sweep  and   t!io 
plover  cry ; 
But  thou,  go'by. 

Child,  if  it  were  thine  error  or  thy 
crime 
I  care  no  longer,  beini;  all  unblest : 
Wed  whom  thou  wilt,  but  I  am  siok  of 
Time, 
And  I  desire  to  rest. 
Pass  on,  weak  heart,  and  leave  me 
where  I  lie : 
Go  by,  go  by. 


THE   EAGLE 
FBAOME27T. 

He  clasps  the  crag  with  hooked  hands ; 
Close  to  the  sun  in  lonely  lands, 
liing'd  with  tao  azure  world,  he  stands. 

The  wrinkled  sea  beneath  him'  crawls ; 
He  watches  from  his  mountain  walls; 
And  like  a  thunderbolt  he  falls. 


Move  eastward,  happy  earth,  and  leavo 
Yon  orange  sunset  waning  slow : 

From  fringes  of  the  faded  eve, 
O,  happy  planet,  eastward  go ; 

Till  over  thy  dark  shoulder  glow 
Thy  silver  sister-world,  and  rise 
To  glass  herself  in  dewy  eyes 

That  watch  me  from  the  glen  below. 

Ah,  bear  mo  witli  tliee,  smoothly  borne, 
Dip  forward  under  titarry  light, 

And  move  me  to  my  marriage-mom. 
And  round  a£:aiirto  happy  night. 


INTERNATIONAL    EXHIBITION. 

Uplift  a  thousand  voices  full  and  sweet. 
In  this  wide  hall  with  carth''8  invention 

stored. 
And  iiraise  th'  invisible  universal  Lord, 
Who  lets  once  more  in  peace  the  nations 
meet. 
Where  Science,  Art,  and  Labor  have 
outpourM 
Their  myriad  horns  of  plenty  at  our  feet. 

O  silent  father  of  our  Kings  to  be 
MournM  in  thin  golden  hour  of  jubilee, 
For  thiH,  for  all,  we  weep  our  thanks  to 
thee  I 

The  world-compelling  pian  was  thine, 
And  lo !  the  long  lalx^rious  milce, 
Of  Palace;  lo!  the  giant  aisles, 
Rich  in  model  and  design  : 
Harvest-tool  and  husbandry, 
Loom  and  wheel  and  engin'ry, 
Secrets  of  thn  sullen  mine. 
Steel  and  gold,  and  corn  and  wine. 
Fabric  rough,  or  FaVry  ftne. 
Sunny  tokens  of  the  XAue, 


I  H*TE  tho  liroiulful  liollow  \k 
It)  Upa  In  Iho  Held  nbovo  aro  .... . 
Tha  nd-ribb'd  ledees  drip  vrilh  a 
And  Eeho  Uierr  -'■" •-—'■■ 


whatever  U  aali'd 


i'bob4d  eivui] 
.  Ilea  ibe ' 


la  Ufe-o  ft 
I'd,  undcrui,. 
ck  UiBt  leU  w 


niEU'd, 


BriAking  Ihdi 


nddiiUedlDLDIhe 


Bid  lie  fllue  lilmsslf  Juwn  ?  irho  knot 
AndsTer  lisiuutter'aoiul  niajldeii'd.  i 
And  out  tie  walk'd  when  llie  wiivl  Ul[< 
And  Ihe  flylus  gold  of  the  tuiu'd  wtwd 

t  ramember  the  time,  far  tht 
By  a  ahuflled  »iBp,  by  n  deud 
And  lay  uulBeB  alueed  their  i 
The  Hhrlll-edgBd  shrlok  ol  a 


light  tt^l'd.  b»  ■ 
le  wim  a  Bhock  on 
thcr  dlTlda  Iho  al 


?  for  a  TBBt  Rneculallon  bad  faU'il, 
ihrokeuwnrldHnewail™  ' 


ilaptr'd  friabt, 


V;ilUny 


blB  linn< 
^  old  mm 


ra  !  whOM?    Ono  mys,  we  areTllli 
it  fame  should  al  laaat  by  mo  be  m 


BroptoHgornedfru 

"Why  do  they  prate  i 
Pi.^£p«kets,  each  lu 


■!  the  I 


Jlrlt  of  Cain.  hiitl>elti 
iieu  Maahig  lu  wai  oil . 

■dTiiniio.  the  notliB  ol 


d  IbB  Hall, 

■  ■  ind  drahfj. 


The  viler, 
Oc  the  gold 


'( 


id  tw  ubealed,  ami  die ;  »ho  knows 


Peace  la  her  vineyanl— jea  I- 


dneEB  DaBhee  np  In  the  mfflan'a  head, 
n«  lings  to  the  yeli  n(  tlio  trampled  Hl(e. 
ni  and  plaaler  are  aold  to  the  poor  for  bread. 


And  Sleep  nrort  lie  down  aim'd,  for  the  TlUanoni  eentre-blta 
Giiud  on  Ihe  wakeful  en  in  the  hush  ol  the  moonleBB  nlshu, 
While  anolhei  la  clieatlng  the  sick  ot  a  few  last  Easpe,  as^e  slU 
TopeftLle  a  polBou'd  poLsou  belUiid  hlEf  eHiueon  lighte- 

■WhsnaMamnionite  mother  kills  her  babe  fot  a  burial  fee. 
And  'llDiour-Mamniou  alius  on  a  pile  of  ihUdrcn-E  bones, 
la  it  peace  or  war  ?  better,  war  !  loud  tvar  by  land  and  by  aea, 
'War  with  a  thousand  battles,  and  shaking  a  hui^dred  thronei. 

For  I  trost  If  an  enemy's  fleet  came  yonder  round  by  the  hll!. 
Aiid  the  rDBblng  battle-boll  Bang  from  the  three-decker  out  ot  the  foam, 
That  the  Bmootfi-faceil  snubuosed  rogue  would  leap  from  bis  counter  an. 
And  strike,  if  lie  could,  were  it  buC  with  his  cheating  yardwaud,  home,- 

What  I  am  I  raging  alone  ai  my  father  raged  In  his  mood  ? 
Mu«  /  too  creep  to  the  hollow  and  daah  myself  down  and  dia 
Kather  than  hold  by  the  law  that  I  made,  nevermore  to  brood 
Ou  a  honor  of  Bhatter'd  Umba  and  a  wretched  ewludler'a  He  ? 


'Woaldth 

Wrapt  in 
And  rave 

ere  ba  sorrow  tor  me  f  there  was  lose  in  th 
Jie  silent  thing  that  had  made  false  haste 
a  cloik,  tu  1  BOW  him,  and  ihoughi  he  wou 

d  ilea  and  speak 

lamalck 

Why  sliou 

VV«eA"g 

of  theHatt  andthehill.Iamilckot  the 
Id  I  stay  ?  can  a  sweeter  chance  ever  come 
the  nerves  of  motion  as  well  as  the  i.erves 
ut  wise  If  I  fled  from  the  place  aud  the  pit 

""m^hera"?""'"' 

Workmen  iipat  the  H«li  1-U»r  «"  coming  back  (™n  ab™d ; 

1  have  heard,  1  know  not  whence,  ot  the  siiigular  beauty  of  Maud  ; 
1  play'd  with  the  girl  when  a  child ;  she  ptomlned  tUen  to  be  fair. 

STaud  with  her  TenturouB  climbing!  and  tumbles  and  childish  ascac 
Mn;:d  the  delight  of  the  village,  ihe  ringing  joy  of  the  Hull, 
Maud  with  her  sweet  puise-moutli  when  my  lailier  dangled  the  gra| 
Maud  the  beloved  ot  my  mother,  the  moou-taced  daillng  of  all,— 

What  Is  she  now  7  My  dreams  are  had.    She  may  bring  me  a  curse. 
No.  thne  is  fatter  game  on  the  moor  ;  she  will  let  me  alone. 
ThankB,  for  the  Heiid  best  knows  whether  woman  or  man  he  tlie  woi 
Iwlll  buty  myself  lu  myself,  and  the  Devil  uiay  pipe  to  his  own, 
II. 
harelelgh'd  toracalm:  God  grant  Imay  flnditatlast  ■ 

id  when  her  carriage  past. 


■e  broXei 


ectly  beai 


a 


PerfL___,  _ 

Alilh»tIsaw(torher . _., , 

Faultily  faultless,  icily  I'egulsr,  splendidly  null. 

Dead  pertecUon,  no  more  ;  nothing  nuJie,  If  it  had  not  been 

C^an  niiderlip,  you  nniy  call  It  a  I'ltUe  too  ripe.  tw.  full.        '"' 

Or  the  least  little  delicate  aaullliie  curve  in  a  Kensltive  nose. 

From  what  I  escaped  heart  ^ree,  with  the  least  little  touch  of  spleaih 


It  (ac, 


III. 

'h  all  spleenful  fc 
of  an  eyelash  dea 


nelly  m 


T- 


Uoua  but  in  thought  to  your  beauty,  and  ever  as 
Growing  and  fading  and  growing  upon  me  withoi 
Lamiiious,  gemlike,  ghostlike,  deathlike,  half  llie  mguL  lonn 
tirowlug  aud  fading  widi.'nivitie,  till  I  could  beai' It  no  mote. 


pale  as  l>efoce 
liie  night  long 


\ 


«  MAUD. 

Bnt  uroic,  und  nil  by  m jieIC  In  m;  own  duk  cordoii  cniiitd, 
LiatBuiiio  iiow  lu  tho  Ilduin  tls  broail-flmiE  ulifuwreoliliiBroar. 
>^ow  to  tjie  3Vr0fiui  iif  k  lUBudeii'il  beach  ifrat^d  dawn  by  tba  w^v^ 
Walk-.l  ill  a  wiuUv  wliirl  by  u  gbaetly  gllmnivr.  nnd  fouud  ^ 

Ilia  BliiuiuH  d&9aul  dead,  siid  Urion  low  lu  lug  giavu. 

n'. 

A  >m.i.iO!i  emerald*  biealt  from  tlio  ruby-baddBd  limo 
In  tliQ  lltlia  K^XB  Hilars  1 «)(— sli,  wherefui'e  cilniiot  I  ba 
IJko  Uiiugs  oC  Uia  HSKin  igajr,  like  tlia  butuitlful  hudii  bliLnd. 
'Wlioii  Iba  (ai-olf  ■■!!  \t  bluHiiby  Ihe  breeze  of  n  witer  clliiiu, 

^D  slleuC  MipiddtodiiiiiiEled  marciaee  liug  ot  tlie  lnudV 

Below  me,  thoro,  Is  the  Tlllnae,  ond  looki  how  qnlet  Bndsmnll ! 
And  ™t  bubblos  o'er  like  a  cllj-,  wilh  goBElp,  ecandal,  and  ■pile : 
And  Jack  oil  hU  sle-lioiue  bentli  bu  u  muiy  lies  as  n  Ciar :  ' 
Andlieie  ontLe  landwurd  Bide,  by  it  red  rock.  nllniiuenUioU&ll  ■ 
And  »p  in  IhH  high  Hnll-gacdeii  I  see  lier  pass  Tike  s  llirbt  t 
JluL  sorrow  aeiie  mo  U  e«et  thu  light  be  my  leadliis  star ! 

'When  hare  T  bow'd  to  her  father,  the  wrinkled  head  ot  the  raee  "■ 
I  met  hot  to-day  with  bet  biBther.  hut  uol  to  licr  brother  I  bow'di 
I  bow'd  to  his  lady-sister  as  Hho  rode  by  on  tha  InooT ; 
■.. — 1.  ^ — .-  ,^^.,  ,,  pride  fluh'J  c — •-  —  •- ■  -- 


le  Mayliy  ig  to 
id  the  whole  1 


sr  ready  to  slanderindBt 
nuiu-sci.  Euiile,  like  a  ■loii'.otlika 
I  let  (he  world  hare  its  way  : 
rapine,  a  bami  no  preacher  esn  lies 
the  swallow,  UiB  sparrow  apear'd  In 
ood  where  1  sU  Is  a  world  of  pliuidi 


TTe  are  puppets.  Mi 
itjiushea 


hlB  pride,  and  Eeanly  talr  in  her  flowe 
iraretnoyed  by  an  uiigean  hand  at  nci 
the  board,  and  iithera  ever  lueoccd? 
Ahyet.  wccannotbe  kind  to  each  other  liere  for  an  hour; 
■Vfa  whl!>iJer.  and  hint,  and  chuckle,  and  criu  at  a  brother's  shai 
However  we  brave  It  out,  we  men  are  a  IRtio  bread. 


9  Bft  was  of  old  the  Lord  and  Master  ot  Earth, 
his  hleti  Bun  flatoe,  and  LIb  tKct  blliavriuE  lati, 

onths  go  la  the  ebapliig  an  Tnlant  ripe  for  hls^iirth, 
million  ot  ages  have  gone  to  the  niaklnE  of  moa : 
I  now  la  Qni,  but  is  ha  tbelaac?  Is  ha  not  loo  hue? 


a  million  ot  ages 
j))nl,butisha  tl 

The  man  of  science  MmaelF  Is  fo 

'ili'e^pitss'miBCu  tieart'of  the  poe"! 
1  would  not  marvel  at  olUier,  bu 
Fur  not  ti>  desiro  or  admire,  if  a 
Than  to  walk  all  day  like  Iho  ml 


lar  of  glory,  and  Tain, 
.  iplril  bounded  and  uuor: 
I  whiri-d  Into  foUy  and  vice, 

otfeouid  T^mlt.  w"r"  inoro 
,11  ot  old  In  a  garden  of  sploa. 


For  tba  drift  of  (he  Maker  !s  dark,  an  IsIs  Iih!  by  Ihe  veil, 

■Who  kHOWB  the  wavB  of  the  world,  Imw  Uoil  will  bring  them  ahOBtt 

Shal?  fweep  U  a  Volnnd  tall"  ^If  1  stiriek  If  a  Huiwary  fail  7 
Or  an  Infant  ciTlllutllon  he  ruled  with  rod  or  with  kiinut '.' 
J/mrouoEoiadstliatrorld.  audHeUuil  mada  It  wilt  ^uida. 


MAUD, 

JX, 

Be  mine  a  philosopher's  life  in  the  quiet  woodland  waySy 

Where  if  I  c&irnot  be  gay  let  a  passionless  peace  be  my  lot. 

Far-off  from  the  clamor  of  liars  belied  in  the  hubbub  of  lies  ; 

From  the  long-neck'd  geese  of  the  world  Uiatare  ever  hissing  dispraise 

Because  their  natures  ai'e  little,  and.  whetlier  he  heed  it  or  not, 

YThere  each  mau  walks  with  his  head  iu  a  cloud  of  poisonous  flies. 

X. 

And  most  of  all  would  I  flee  from  the  cruel  madness  of  lovei 
The  honey  of  poisoii-tiowers  and  all  the  measureless  ill. 
Ah  Maud,  you  milk  white  fawn,  you  are  all  unmeet  for  a  wife. 
Your  mother  is  nmte  in  her  grave  as  her  image  in  marble  above  ; 
Your  father  is  ever  in  London,  you  wander  about  at  ymir  will ; 
You  have  but  fed  on  the  roses,  aud  lain  iu  the  lilies  of  life. 


fty 


V. 


I. 


A  VOICE  by  the  cedar  tree. 

In  the  meadow  under  the  Hall ! 

She  is  singing  an  air  that  is  known  to 

me, 
A  passionate  ballad  gallant  and  gay, 
A  martial  sons  like  a  trumpet's  call ! 
Singing  alone  m  the  morning  of  life, 
Iu  the  happy  morning  of  life  and  of 

May, 
Singing  of  men  that  in  battle  array, 
Beady  in  heart  and  ready  in  hand, 
March  with  banner  and  bugle  and  fife 
To  the  death,  for  their  native  laud. 

II. 

Mand  with  her  exquisite  face, 

And  wild  voice  pealing  up  to  the  sun- 
ny sky, 

And  feet  like  sunny  gems  on  an  Eng- 
lish green, 

Maud  in  the  light  of  her  youth  and  her 
grace, 

Singing  of  Death,  and  of  Honor  that 
cannot  die, 

Till  I  well  could  weep  for  a  time  so 
sordid  and  mean. 

And  myself  so  languid  and  base. 

III. 

Silence,  beautiful  voice 

Be  still,  for  you  only  trouble  the  mind 

With  a  joy  in  which  I  cannot  rejoice, 

A  glory  I  shall  not  find. 

Still !  I  will  hear  you  no  more. 

For  your  sweetness  hardly  leaves  me  a 

choice 
But  to  move  to  the  meadow  and  fall 

before 
Her  feet  on  the  meadow  grass,  and 

adore. 
Not  her,  who  is  neither  courtly  nor 

khid, 
Kot  her,  not  her,  but  a  voice. 

VI. 

I. 

MoRXcro  arises  stormy  and  pale, 

No  san,  but  a  wannish  glare 

In  fold  npou  fold  of  hueless  cloud, 


And  the  budded  peaks  of  the  wood  art 

bow'd 
Caught  and  oufF'd  by  the  gale  : 
I  had  fancied  it  woiild  be  fair. 

II. 

Whom  but  Maud  should  I  meet 
Last  night,  when  the  sunset  bum*d 
On  the  Dlossom'd  gable-ends 
At  the  head  of  the  village  street. 
Whom  but  Maud  should  I  meet? 
And  she  touch'd  my  hand  with  a  smil» 

so  sweet 
She  made  me  divine  amends 
For  a  courtesy  not  returned. 

III. 

And  thus  a  delicate  spark 
Of  glowinc  and  growing  light 
'lino*  the  livelong  hours  of  the  dark 
Kept  itself  warm  in  the  heart  of  mr 

dreams. 
Ready  to  burst  in  a  colored  flame ; 
Till  at  last  when  the  morning  came 
In  a  cloud,  it  faded,  and  seems 
But  an  ashen-gray  delight. 

IV. 

Wliat  if  with  her  sunny  hair, 

Aud  smile  as  sunny  as  cold, 

She  meant  to  weave  nie  a  snare 

Of  some  coquettieh  deceit, 

Cleopatra-like  as  of  old 

To  entangle  me  when  we  met, 

To  have  her  lion  roll  in  a  silken  net 

And  fawn  at  a  victor's  feet. 

V. 

Ah,  what  shall  I  be  at  fiftjr 

Should  Nature  keep  me  alive, 

If  I  tind  the  world  so  Mtter 

When  I  am  but  twenty-five? 

Yet,  if  she  were  not  a  cheat. 

If  Maud  were  all  that  she  seem*d, 

And  her  smile  were  all  that  I  dream'4 

Then  the  world  were  not  so  bitter 

But  a  smile  could  make  it  sweet. 

VI. 

Wlmt  if  tho*  her  eye  seem'd  full 
Of  a  kind  intent  to  me. 
What  if  that  dandy-despot,  he, 
That  jewell'd  mass  of  millinery. 
That  oil'd  and  curl'd  A88^t\wv'&>3i5\ 
Smelling  of  musk  and  ol  Wo\«siq&« 


7 


MAUD. 


89 


Whose   old   grandfather   has  lately 

died, 
Gone  to  a  blacker  pit,  for  whom 
Grimy  nakedness  dragging  his  trucks 
And  laying  Lis  trams  in  a  poison'd 

gloom 
Wrought,  till  he  crept  from  a  gutted 

mine 
Master  of  half  a  seiTile  Fhire, 
And  left  his  coal  all  tum'd  into  gold 
To  a  grandson,  first  of  his  noble  line, 
Rich  In  the  grace  all  women  desire, 
Strong  in  the  power  that  all  men  adore. 
And  simper  and  set  their  voices  lower, 
And  soften  as  if  to  a  girl,  and  hold 
Awe-stricken  breaths  at  a  work  divine, 
Seeing  his  gewgaw  castle  shine, 
Kew  as  his  title,  built  last  year. 
There  amid  perky  larches  and  pine. 
And  over  the  sullen-purple  moor 
(Look  at  it)  pricking  a  cockney  ear. 

II. 

"What,  has  he  found  my  jewel  out? 
For  one  of  tlie  two  that  ro<lc  at  her  side 
Bound  for  the  Hall,  I  am  sure  was  he  : 
Bound  for  the  Hall,  and  I  think  for  a 

bride. 
Blithe  would  her  brother's  acceptance 

be. 
Maud  could  be  gracious  too,  no  doubt. 
To  a  lord,  a  captain,  a  padded  shape, 
A  bought  commission,  a  waxen  face, 
A  rabbit  mouth  tliat  is  ever  agape- 
Bought  ?  what  is  it  he  cannot  buy  ? 
And  therefore  splenetic,  personal.base, 
A  wounded  thing  with  a  rancorous  cry. 
At  war  with  myself  and  a  wretched 

race. 
Sick,  sick  to  the  heart  of  life,  am  I. 

iir. 

Last  week  came  one  to  the  county  town , 
To  preach  our  poor  little  army  down. 
And  play  the  game  of  the  despot  kings, 
Tho'  the  state  has  done  it  and  thrice  as 

well : 
This  broad-brimm'd  hawker  of  holy 

things, 
Whose  ear  is  cramm'd  with  his  cotton, 

and  rings 
Even  in  dreams  to  the  chink  of  his 

pence. 
This  huckster  put  down  war !  can  he 

tell 
Whether  war  be  a  cause  or  a  conse- 
quence ? 
Put  down  the  passions  that  make  earth 

Hell! 
Down  with  ambition,  avarice,  pride. 
Jealousy,  down !  cut  off  from  the  mind 
Tl»e  bitter  springs  of  anger  and  fear  ; 
I>own  too,  down  at  your  own  fireside. 
With  the  evil  tongiie  and  the  evil  ear, 
For  each  is  at  war  with  mankind. 

IV. 

I  wish  I  could  hear  again 

Tlie  chivalrous  battle-song 

ThAt  ahewaxfoled  alone  in  ner  Joy  ! 


I  might  persuade  myself  then 

She  would  not  do  herself  this  great 

wrong. 
To  take  a  wanton  dissolute  boy 
For  a  man  and  leader  of  men. 

V. 

Ah  God,  for  a  man  with  heart,  head, 

hand. 
Like  »onie  of  the  simple  great  onos 

gone 
For  ever  and  ever  by. 
One  still  strong  man  in  a  blatant  land, 
Whatever  they  call  him,  what  care  I, 
Aristocrat,  democrat,  autocrat, — one 
Who  can  rule  and  dare  not  lie. 

VI. 

And  ah  for  a  man  to  arise  in  me. 
That  the  man  1  am  may  cease  to  be  ! 

XI. 
I. 

0  LET  the  solid  ground 
Not  fail  beneath  my  feet 

Before  my  life  has  found 

What  some  have  found  so  sweet ; 
Then  let  come  what  come  may, 
What  matter  if  1  go  mad, 

1  shall  have  had  my  day. 

II. 
Let  the  sweet  heavens  endure, 

Not  close  and  darken  above  me 
Before  I  am  quite  quite  sure 

That  there  is  one  to  love  me ; 
Tlien  let  come  what  come  may 
To  a  life  that  has  been  so  sad, 
1  shall  have  had  my  tlay. 

xn. 

I. 

Birds  in  the  high  Hall-garden 
When  twilight  was  falling, 

Maud,  Maud,  Maud,  Maud, 
They  were  crying  and  calling. 

II. 
Wliere  was  Maud?  in  our  wood ; 

And  1,  who  else,  was  with  her, 
Gathering  woodland  lilies, 

Myriads  blow  together. 

III. 
Birds  in  our  wood  sane 

Uingiiig  thro'  the  valleys, 
Maud  is  here,  here,  here 

In  among  the  lilies. 

IV. 

I  kiss'd  her  slender  hand. 
She  took  the  kiss  sedately  ; 

Maud  is  not  seventeen. 
But  she  is  tall  and  stately. 

V. 

I  to  ciy  out  on  pride 
Who  have  won  her  favor  ? 

0  Maud  were  sure  of  Heaven 
If  lowliness  could  save  her. 

VT. 

1  know  the  way  she  went 
Home  with  her  maiden  poey, 


V 


For  her/MthoTBloucli' 
And  left  Uia  dalaieg  n»y. 

Birds  lu  tliB  Mgh  Hall-oanleii 

WlimlB^liHiC  Mmui.  lifauJ,  ''' 

Look,  H  Iiorae  nt  Uin  hnni, 
Ami  llttls  King  Ubiirlej  hihtU 

Co  back,  iBjr  Inra.  »rr"M  Uio  mo 
You  are  uot  li«r  daiUnf-     « 


Tlmi  H  mlaniHT  hard  lo  be  borne  ? 
Well,  l:e  iiiny  11  va  to  liatp  me  yei. 
Fool  lliat  1  uii  to  be  yaxt  wilb  bli 

pride! 
I  put  litin,  I  WM  proBBliig  bl9  lBiid> ; 
Be  aWoa  oil  Uie  pKUl  a  llltle  agldQ  ; 
Hitfflce,  as  1  b[sii(,  iii  spile  r>C  >[>lte. 
Ubi   >  broad^lowu    cgmeUu^M,  i«d 


Btopt.anddien  wllh  a 
LoiBurely  tupping  b  glr 
Aiiil  curving  ■  cuiilumi 


Why  >1M  lio  berc  in  Lis  father's  chair? 
TliatoldiiiaiiiiKTflr  ••nines  to  lii^plHce: 
Bli*nilwllevflblmaHLHm«dlube><fleiiV 
For  only  ciiice,  in  ilio  villsgu  alreet, 
LaM  year,  I  cangbt  a  glimpse  ot  his 


AiidMamMin 
Tbo'  I  fuii!y  h 


ns  Maud  !«  sweet ; 
etiiem  only  dne 
by  the  other  all  le; 


Howecer  sha  came  to  be  so  allitd. 
Aiid  fair  witbnut,  faitlltul  within, 
Maud  tu  him  ta  nothing  skin: 

A1s!id  Iier  only  the  rliimoriiBrinother, 
AIJ,  ilt  upoa  the 


,  nngrji  «piril,  anil  lotl' 


MAtm  haa  a  nnieii  oF  roses 
An,l  lilies  Inlr  on  a  lawn  : 
Tliere  aho  walks  ]  ii  her  atute 
Ami  tends  upon  lied  and  bower. 


tiiilataoil  by  herEanleii 
L  Hou  ramps  at  the  t^ip, 
leUclaiptby  apaseiou 


nlhet 


IF  the  I 


biioks 


Lights  with  herself,  whi 
She  fills  by  her  muKlc  ni 
Aud  her  brother  Ilngen  late 
With  a  rojiteriug  roniiiaiiy)  la 
Upon  JIand'M  own  gnrdcii-nain 
Aiid  1  tlioDght  as  1  stood,  it  a  I 

As  ocean-roam  In  the  moon,  we 
On  the  bai'p  of  the  uinUuw,  i 

Delight 
"— "'-n  desire,  like  a  Elorlons 


MA  UD. 


^l 


'\ea  eT*n  of  wretdiod  meat  and  drink, 

Jf  1  b«  dear. 

If  I  be  dear  to  some  on«  else  ? 

'  XVL 

I. 

Thir  lump  of  earth  has  left  his  estate 
The  lighter  by  the  loss  of  his  weight ; 
And  so  that  he  liud  what  he  went  to 

seek. 
And  fulsome  Pleasure  clog  him,  and 

drown 
His  heart  in  the  gross  mud-honey  of 

town, 
He  may  stay  for  a  year  who  has  gone 

for  a  week : 
But  this  is  the  day  when  I  must  speak. 
And  I  see  my  Oread  coming  down, 
O  this  is  the  day ! 

0  beautiful  creature,  what  am  I 
That  I  dare  to  look  her  way ; 
Think  I  may  hold  dominion  sweet, 
Lord  of  the  pulse  that  is  lord  of  her 

breast, 
And  dream  of  her  beauty  with  tender 

dread. 
From  the  delicate  Arab  arch  of  her 

feet 
To  the  grace  that,  bright  and  light  as 

the  crest 
Of  a  peacock,  sits  on  her  shining  head, 
And  she  knows  it  not :  O,  if  she  knew 

it, 
To  know  her  beautv  might  half  undo  it. 

1  know  it  the  one  brisnt  thing  to  save 
My  yet  young  life  in  «ie  wilds  of  Time, 
Perhaps  from  madness,  perhaps  from 

crime. 
Perhaps  from  a  selfish  grave. 


be 


II. 
fastened 


to  this  fool 


"What,  if  she 

lord, 

Dare  I  bid  her  abide  by  her  word  ? 
Should  I  love  her  so  well  if  she 
Had  given  her  word  to  a  thing  so  low? 
Shall  I  love  her  as  well  if  she 
Can  break  her  word  were  it  even  for 

me? 
I  trust  that  it  is  not  so. 

in. 
Catch  not  my  breath,  O  clamorous 

heart. 
Let  not  my  tongue  be  a  thrall  to  my 

eye. 
For  I  must.tell  her  before  we  part, 
1  must  tell  her,  or  die. 

XVIL 

Go  not,  happy  day. 

From  the  snining  fields. 
Go  not,  happy  day, 

Till  the  maiden  yields. 
Bosy  is  the  West, 

Bosy  is  the  South, 
Boses  are  her  cheeks, 

And  A  rose  her  mouth. 
When  the  happy  Yes 

Falters  from  her  lips, 
and  hJuah  the  newt 


0*er  tlie  blowing  ships. 
Over  blowing  seas. 

Over  seas  at  rest» 
Pass  the  happy  news, 

Blush  it  thi-o'  the  west ; 
Till  the  red  man  dance 

By  his  red  cedar  tree, 
And  the  red  man's  babe 

Leap,  beyond  tlie  sea. 
Blush  from  West  to  East, 

Blush  from  East  to  West, 
Till  the  West  is  East, 

Bluah  it  thro'  the  West. 
Bosy  is  the  West, 

Bosy  is  the  South, 
Boses  are  her  cheeks. 

And  a  rose  her  mouth. 

XVIII. 

I. 

I  have  led  her  home,  my  love,  my  only 
friend. 

There  is  none  like  her.  none. 

And  never  yet  so  warmly  ran  my  blood 

And  sweetly,  on  and  on 

Calming  itself  to  the  long-wish*d-for 
end, 

Full  to  the  banks,  close  on  the  prom- 
ised good. 

II. 

None  like  her,  none. 

Just  now  the  ury-tongued  laurels'  pat- 
tering talk 

Seem'd  her  light  foot  along  the  garden 
walk, 

And  shook  my  heart  to  think  she 
comes  once  more  ; 

But  even  then  I  heard  her  clos^  the 
door, 

The  gates  of  Heaven  are  closed,  and 
she  is  gone. 

III. 

There  is  none  like  her,  none. 

Nor  will  be  when  our  summers  have 

deceased. 
O,  art  thou  Figliing  for  Lebanon 
In  the  long  breeze  that  streams  to  thy 

delicious  East, 
Sighing  for  Lebanon, 
Dark  cedar,  tho'  thy  limbs  )iave  hero 

increased, 
Upon  a  pastoral  slope  as  fair. 
And  looking  to  the  South,  and  fed 
With  honey'd  rain  and  delicate  air. 
And  haunted  by  the  starry  head 
Of  her  whose  gentle  will  has  changed 

my  fate, 
And  made  my  life  a  pei*fumed  altar- 
flame  ; 
And  over  whom  thy  darkness  must 

have  spread 
With  such  daylight  as  theirs  of  old, 

thy  great 
Forefathers  of  the  thomless  garden, 

there 
Shadowing  the  BT\o'w-\VicW^'E."^«i\.\<3tSL 

whom  she  came. 


Rera  irill   I   lie.   while    [liese 

Go  In  end  out  M  It  «t  manr  pl»j, 
■Who  Bm  no  mora  m  all  fotiorii, 
AsnUen  ituem'il  far  bsLIcr  lobe  bom 
to   labor  Bud  Llia    mattock-hanleii'd 

Tlian  liurBsd  at  eaga  and  branBhC  to 

A  ead  aalialugy.  the  boundless  plan 
That  makeeyou  (jraula  in  j-oot  Iron 

' able,  pitlleu,  paulonlDiu  eja. 


Cold  flre^ 
UU  noUilngne 


with  p< 


Bliupla  gltl. 
WoDld  die  :  focBuUen-iieeming  Deal 


A  livelier  emarald    twinkles  iu  "ihv 
A  pncec  sapphire  incltB  into  the  ai^a. 

Kot  die;  but  lire  nllle  at  tmeotlirenlli. 
And  leach  (rue  Ule  (o  light  iriLIi  niunni 

O.  why  ahouM  Lotc,  llko  men  in  dduk- 

Spkehltf^banquetwILh  the  dust  of 

doalh? 
Htkeumwer,  Maudniv  blis.'. 
Maud  made  my  Maud  by  tluit  long 

Ute  or  raj  tlte',  irllt  thou  not  answer 


It  that  enchanted  innsu  onlr  the  >»ell 
ur  tiie  long  wavei  that  roll  in  yonder 

And  hark  the  dock  within,  Ihs  iIlTer 

knell 
Ot  twelve  Bweet  hours  that   paet  in 

bridal  wblte, 

o  live,  long  na  my  pnlset 


Bu 

tiiow  by  thla  n 
her  light 

7    loTB    ha>  ClOMd 

stol'n  anay 

ath  hei  band,  and 

oiig  the  fiagm 
day. 

Vffriebt'i  """ 

nta  Dt  the  golden 

«a 

her  maiden  eiMB 

»pelL 

thlheothodmirey 

It  ll  but  for  ■  little 

pace  1  to  ■■ 

And  ye  meauwlille  Car  over ; 

fell 
Beat  to  the  nolaelesa    mi 

night ! 
Has  our  whole  earth  gone ) 


Ot  your  soft  splendors  that : 

Beai,  happy  ataj^,  timing  with  things 

Beat  witli  my  hcarl 

heart  »>i  tell, 
Blest,  but  for  some  dark  underi 


ly  dark -dawning  youlh, 

en'd  watching  a  mother , 

that  dead  man  atherhesn  aiid 

ihherbutlr 

I  tmat  Ihat  T  did  not  talk 

To  gentle  Maud  in  our  walk 

IFor  olten  in  lonely  wandering* 

I  liave   eumd  him  even  to  lUeloN 

things) 
But  1  trust  that  I  did  not  talk, 
li'ot  touch  on  her  father'a  hIu  : 
lam  sure  1  did  but  aueak 
Of  my  mother's  fadeJ  cheek 
Whan  it  slowly  grew  to  Ihln. 
That  I  felt  she  was  slowly  dying 
Veit  Willi  lawjeta  sud  haraai'S  wtHl 

For  how  often  I  caught  ber  with  eysi 


b11«< 


ATAUD. 


93 


Shaking  her  head  at  her  son  and  sigh- 
ins 
A  world  of  trouble  within  ! 

IT. 

And  Maud  too,  Maud  was  moved 
To  speak  of  the  mother  she  loved 
As  one  scarce  less  forlorn. 
Dying  abroad  and  it  seems  apart 
From  him  who  had  ceased  to  share  her 

heart, 
And  ever  mourning  over  the  feud, 
The  household  Fui^  spriukled  with 

blood 
By  which  our  houses  are  torn  : 
How  strange  was  what  she  said, 
When  only  Maud  and  the  brother 
Hung  over  her  dving  bed- 
That  Maud's  dark  father  and  mine 
Had  bound  us  one  to  the  other. 
Betrothed  us  over  their  wine. 
On  the  day  when  Maud  was  bom  ; 
Seal*d  her  mine  from  her  first  sweet 

breath. 
Mine,  mine  by  a  right,  from  birth  till 

death. 
Mine,  mine— our  fathers  have  sworn. 

V. 

But  the  true  blood  spilt  had  in  it  a 

heat 
To  dissolve  the  precious  seal  on  a  bond, 
That,  if  left  uncanceird,  had  been  so 

sweet : 
And  none  of  us  thought  of  a  something 

beyond, 
A  desire  that  awoke  in  the  heart  of  the 

child. 
As  it  were  a  duty  done  to  the  tomb, 
To  be  friends  for  her  sake,  to  l>e  recon- 
ciled ; 
And  I  was  cursing  them  and  my  doom. 
And  letting  a  dangerous  thought  run 

wild 
While  often  abroad  in  the  fragrant 

gloom 
Of  foreign  churches— I  see  her  there, 
Briffht  Knglish  lily,  breathing  a  prayer 
To  oe  friends,  to  be  reconcile  ! 

VI. 

But  then  what  a  flint  is  he  ! 
Abroad,  at  Florence,  at  Rome, 
I  find  whenever  she  touch'don  me 
This  brother  had  laugh*d  her  down. 
And  at  last,  when  each  came  home, 
He  had  darken*d  into  a  frown. 
Chid  her,  and  forbid  her  to  speak 
To  me.  her  friend  of  the  years  before  ; 
And  this  was  what  had  redden'd  her 

cheek 
When  1  bow'd  to  her  on  the  moor. 

VII. 

Tet  Maod.  altho'  not  blind 

To  the  faults  of  his  heart  and  mind 

I  see  she  cannot  but  love  him. 

And  says  ha  is  rough  but  kind, 

And  wishes  me  to  approve  him, 

And  tells  me.  when  she  lay 

BIek  onee*  with  a  tear  ot  worse,  \ 


That  he  left  his  wine  and  horses  and 

play. 
Sat  with  her,  read  to  her,  night  and  day. 
And  teuded  her  like  a  nurse* 

VIII. 

Kind  ?  but  the  deathbed  desire 
Spurned  by  this  heir  of  the  liar— 
Kough  but  kind  ?  yet  I  know 
He  has  plotted  against  me  in  this. 
That  he  plots  against  me  still. 
Kind  to  Maud  f  that  were  not  amiss. 
Well,  rough  but  kind;  why  let  it  be  sos 
For  shall  not  Maud  have  lier  will  ? 

IX. 

For,  Maud,  so  tender  and  true, 
As  Ions  as  my  life  endures 
I  feel  1  shall  owe  you  a  debt. 
That  I  never  can  hope  to  pay  ; 
And  if  ever  I  should  forget 
That  I  owe  this  debt  to  you 
And  for  your  sweet  sake  to  yours ; 

0  then,  what  then  shall  I  say  ?— 
If  ever  I  shmild  forget. 

May  God  make  me  more  wretched 
Thau  ever  I  have  been  yet ! 

X. 

So  now  I  have  sworn  to  bury 
All  this  dead  body  of  hate, 

1  feel  so  f^ee  and  so  clear 

By  the  loss  of  that  dead  weight. 
That  I  should  grow  light-headed,  I  fear- 
Fantastically  merry ; 
But  that  her  brother  comes,  like  a 

blight 
On  my  fresh  hope,  to  the  Hall  to-night. 

XX. 

I. 

Strange,  that  I  felt  so  gay. 
Strange,  that  /  tried  to-day 
To  beguile  her  melancholy  ; 
The  Sultan,  as  we  name  him,— 
She  did  not  wish  to  blame  him  — 
But  he  vext  her  and  perplext  her 
With  his  worldly  talk  and  folly  : 
Was  it  gentle  to  reprove  her 
For  stealing  out  of  view 
From  a  little  lazy  lover 
Who  but  claims  her  as  his  due  ? 
Or  for  chilling  his  caresses 
By  the  coldness  of  her  manners, 
Kay,  the  plainness  of  her  dresses  ? 
Now  I  know  her  but  in  two, 
Nor  can  pronounce  upon  it 
If  one  should  ask  me  whether 
The  habit,  hat,  and  feather, 
Or  the  frock  and  gypsy  bonnet 
Be  the  neater  andcompleter ; 
For  nothing  can  be  sweeter 
Thau  maiden  Maud  in  either. 

n. 

But  to-morrow,  if  we  live. 
Our  ponderous  squire  will  give 
A  grand  political  dinner 
To  half  the  squireWnes  ivew  *. 
And  Maud  wu\  weax  net  ^*i>we\%> 


I  And  tbe  ^Ird  of  pray  will  hoi 
I  Anil  lliH  lltniootabope  to  wii 
I    WIIL  liH  chirrup  n  S"'  -" 

w 


_  A  gisnil  political  dlim 

I  To  Ilia  mail  of  muiy  B 

II  A  gnCliirliiE  ot  tlie  To 

frorttia: 


I  iiiit  to  Hie  lilj,  "  There  la  hut  on« 
With  wliom  B^e  baa  heart  to  be  nr. 

■Wliau  will  the  dan«ni  lea*o  her»lS!'- 
Slio  In  He»ry  oEdttuce  Hud  play." 

And  lialt  to  Ihs  riding  day;        ^" 


ars 


hsc  a'^'y- 


'iS'tlaii 


I  km  not  lnv1t«d._ 
p  ]  am  all  IB  vM  dellgUti 


Till  tba  dan 


lo  Ungc 
luliiB  «■ 
0  then, 


»ill  bt 


: 


III  Maud  In  all  lior  eplcu 
SXI. 
BrruLET  oroulng  rn;  ground, 
And  brliiciiig  me  down  Ironi  tbe  Hal 
TIilB  EanUii-rose  that  I  lauiid. 
JV>rBattul  of  &1aud  and  me,  • 
AnJloM  in  trouble  »ud  jnovlnj-mun 
Sara  at  tha  bead  oC  a  tinkling  £all, 
And  trrlng  to  pus  to  tbe  gca : 
O  Blvnlet,  bom  nt  Uia  Hall. 
My  Mand  bu  aent  It  by  tbee 

8t  I  read  bar  Bwaet  will  rigbt) 
nabliublngmlHlontonie. 
Saying  In  ndor  and  color, "  Ab,  ba 
Among  tbe  roaes  to-idgbt." 


CO«r.  Into  tlio  garden,  Mnud, 


0  rose,  "  Tho  brief  nl^bl 
ind  wine. 


O  young  lord-lov 


Anit  tbo  bdhI  oC 

Aa  Uio  muBlfl  t ^  „,. 

Ami  long  by  the  garden  laka  1  ataod. 
For  I  beard  your  -• — ■--  '" 


Ibo  ball : 


From  IhH  meadow  your-wolka  have  leTI 


And  tbo  valleys  of  Paiadlao. 
The  Blender  aoada  woulil  not  sbaks 
The  wMtQ  l^B-bl. 

pimpernel  doiei 


MAUD. 


^ 


7^6  laikspnr  lUtens,  <*  I  hear,  I  hear ;" 
And  the  lily  whisperSt  ''I  wait." 

XI. 
She  is  coming,  my  own,  my  sweet; 

Were  it  ever  so  airy  a  tread, 
Myheart  would  hear  her  and  beat, 

Were  it  earth  in  an  earthy  bed ; 
My  dust  would  hear  her  and  beat, 

Had  I  lain  for  a  century  dead  ; 
Would  start  and  tremble  under  her 
feet, 

And  blossom  in  purple  and  red. 

XXIII. 
I. 

"  Hio  fault  was  mine,  the  fault  was 

mine" — 
Why  am  I  sitting  here  so  stmm'd  and 

still, 
Plucking  the  harmless  wild-flower  on 

the  hill?— 
It  is  this  guilty  hand  ! — 
And  there  rises  ever  a  passionate  cry 
From  underneath  iu  the  darkening 

land-— 
What  is  it,  that  has  been  done  ? 
O  dawn  of  Eden  bright  ovei  eailh  and 

sky 
The  fires  of  Hell  brake  out  of  thy  ris- 
ing sun. 
The  fires  of  Hell  and  of  Hate ; 
For  she,  sweet  soul,  had  hardly  spoken 

a  word. 
When  her  brother  ran  iu  his  rage  to 

the  gate. 
He  came  with  the  babe>f aced  lord ; 
Heap*d  on  her  terms  of  disgrace. 
And  while  she  wept,  and  I  strove  to  be 

cool. 
He  fiercely  gave  me  the  lie, 
Till  I  with  as  fierce  an  anger  spoke, 
And  he  struck  me,  madman,  over  the 

face. 
Struck  me  before  the  languid  fool, 
Wlio  was  gaping  an  grinning  by : 
Struck  for  lumself  an  evil  stroke  ; 
Wrought  for  his  house  an  irredeemable 

woe ; 
For  front  to  front  in  an  hour  we  stood, 
And    a    million    horrible    bellowing 

echoes  broke 
From  the  red-ribb*d  hollow  behind  the 

wood. 
And  tliunder*d  up  into  Heaven  the 

Christless  code. 
That  must  liave  life  for  a  blow. 
Ever  and  ever  afresh  they  seem'd  to 

grow. 
Was  it  he  lay  there  with  a  fading  eye  ? 
<•  The  fault  was  mine,"  he  whisper'd, 

"flvl" 
Then  glided  out  of  the  jovous  wood 
The  ghastly  Wraith  of  one  that  I 

know; 
And  there  rang  on  a  sudden  a  passion- 
ate cry, 
A  cry  for  a  brother's  blood  : 
It  will  ring  in  my  heart  and  my  ears, 

tlUldIe»tUll  die. 


II. 


Is  it  gone  ?  my  pulses  beat— 

What  was  it?  a  lying  trick  of  the 

brain  ? 
Yet  I  thouffht  I  saw  her  stand, 
A  shadow  there  at  my  feet, 
Hieh  over  the  shadowy  land. 
It  18  gone ;  and  the  heavens  fall  in  a 

gentle  rain, 
When  they  should  burst  and  drown 

with  deluging  storms 
The  feeble  vassam  of  wine  and  anger 

and  lust. 
The  little  hearts  that  know  not  how  to 

forgive  : 
Arise,  my  God,  and  strike,  for  we  hold 

Thee  just, 
Strike  deail  the  whole  weak  race  of 

venomous  worms, 
That  sting  each  other  here  in  the  dust ; 
We  are  not  worthy  to  live. 

XXIV. 

I. 

See  what  a  lovely  shell. 
Small  and  pure  as  a  pearl, 
Lying  close  to  my  foot, 
Frail,  but  a  work  divine, 
Made  so  f  airily  well 
With  delicate  spire  and  whorl. 
How  exquisitely  minute, 
A  miracle  of  design ! 

11. 

What  is  it  ?  a  learned  man 
Could  give  it  a  clumsy  name. 
Let  him  name  it  who  can. 
The  beauty  would  be  the  same. 

III. 

The  tiny  cell  is  forlorn, 
Void  of  the  little  living  will 
That  made  it  stir  on  the  shore. 
Did  he  stand  at  the  diamond  door 
Of  his  house  in  a  rainbow  frill  ? 
Did  he  push,  when  he  was  uncurl'd 
A  golden  foot  or  a  fairy  horn 
Tli^o'  his  dim  water-world? 

IV. 

Slight,  to  be  crush'd  with  a  tap 
Of  my  finger-nail  on  the  sand, 
Small,  but  a  work  divine, 
Frail,  but  of  force  to  withstand, 
Year  upon  year,  the  shock 
Of  cataract  seas  that  snap 
The  three  decker's  oaken  spino 
Athwart  the  ledges  of  rock. 
Here  on  the  Breton  strand ! 

V. 

Breton,  not  Briton  ;  here 
Like  a  shipwreck'd  man  on  a  coast 
Of  ancient  fable  and  fear- 
Plagued  with  a  flitting  to  and  fro, 
A  disease,  a  hard  mechanic  ghost 
That  never  came  from  on  high 
Nor  ever  arose  from  below, 
But  only  moves  with  the  moving  eye» 


FlTlnBttloiigllielanclnnilllie 
Whj  slioulif  it  look  like  Maud 
Am  I  lobe  overawed 
Jiywhatlcsiiiiotbutknon- 


Back  to  the  dark  HeS'lliie 

Looking,  ilitiikliig  of  all  I  hare  lott ; 

But  UlM  of  Lajuech  l>  uiliw. 


But  *lie.  ibe  WDiild  love  nie«ll11 1 
Aiid  u  Ions,  O  God.  ■■  alie 
Baia  a  grarii  of  lore  for  nio. 
So  long,  no  doubt,  no  itfiubt, 
Bbali  f  nuiBe  In  107  dark  lie.irt. 
However  weary,  a  apark  o(  will 
Koc  to  be  trampled  out. 

Blrange.  that  the  mind,  vhen  fraugbb 
WlthapaxBlonaottiteiiae 

Mlfht  drawn  all  Ufe  lu  the  eye,— 
That  it  ahoulJ,   by    IkIus  su  ovsr- 

Huddenly  atrlke  on  a  sharper  unss 

linilch  Blie  would  liaye  been  past  by  I 

And  now  1  reuianiber,  1, 

"Wlien  be  lay  dyliiE  Iliete, 

1  noUoed  one  ot  his  many  ring! 

thought 
It  is  his  moUier's  Lair. 

ThoknowilChelie  ilead? 


AmlEUlUyoC  bio 
However  thia  may 


WhlielamDTerthesGB! 

~       ipeak  lo  tier  all  thluga  : 


high, 


I  thina* 

tcoby. 
oly  and 


[Oby; 


y- 


But  come   to  her 

asleep. 
Panera  o[  tlie  height,  FDwera  o 

And  comlott  her  tho'  1  die. 
XXV. 

iDorhcanot  alone) 

Ik  thee  why 
TIiou  euiM  not  niidenUnd 
That  Ibou  Bit  left  for  eTSr  alone  : 
Courage,  poor  stupid  hsstt  af  *to 
one  rsak  thee  why. 
Csra  not  thou  to  reply  : 


"^fif^, 


i 


By  the 
Wbsmx 


anyUiiugi 


I  BRVB  i»e  birth. 
a  III  long  embrwei 


A  ftbadow  fllla  before  me, 
Kot  tbnu,  but  like  10  Lhee  ; 
All  Christy,  Uiat  U  were  paislhla 

that  they  mithi 

they  be. 


It  16 


leforl 


voniiig 


Half  the  night  I  waste  In  sighs. 
Half  In  drasma  I  wri-ow  afLer 
The  delight  of  early  mies ; 
III  a  wakeful  doza  I  rorrow 
For  the  hail  J,  the  lips,  ilie  eyes, 
For  the  meetlnE  of  the  morrew. 
The  cMlghi  of  liKp]>y  lauehlet. 
The  delight  of  low  repUei. 

'Tla  a  momlni  pure  and  sweet, 
And  a  dewy  spleudur  falls 
On  the  llttfe  Bower  that  cUnp 


She  la  sliiglui;  In  the  meadow, 
A  lid  the  rTvulet  at  her  feet 
Hippies  oil  In  liglit  and  aliadow 
To  the  ballad  that  she  slugs. 


nolhearherslngaior  old. 
My  bird  with  tbe  aWiii""  h»i 
My  own  dove  with  tli 
But  there  ilugs 


snddsu  a  psasloa- 
dying  or  dead. 


3fAUD. 


97 


And  I  wake,  mv  dream  is  fled ; 
111  the  shuddennff  dawn,  behold. 
Without  knowledge,  without  pity, 
Bv  the  curtains  of  my  bed 
Tuat  abiding  phantom  cold. 


Tin. 


Get  thee  hence,  nor  come  again. 
Mix  not  memory  with  doubt. 
Pass,  thou  deatnlike  type  of  pain, 
Pass  and  cease  to  move  about  I 
*Ti8  the  blot  upon  the  brain 
That  will  show  itself  without. 


IX. 

Then  I  rise,  the  eavedrops  fall. 
And  the  yellow  vapors  choke 
The  great  city  sounding  wide  ; 
The  day  comes,  a  dull  red  ball 
Wrapt  in  drifts  of  lurid  smoke 
Ou  tne  misty  river-tide. 

X. 

Thro*  the  hubbub  of  the  inarkot 

I  steal,  a  wasted  frame, 

It  crosses  here,  it  crosses  there. 

Thro'  all  that  crowd  confused  and  loud, 

The  shadow  still  the  same  ; 

And  on  my  heavy  eyelidn 

My  anguish  hangs  like  shame. 

XI. 

Alas  for  her  that  met  me, 

That  heard  me  softly  call. 

Came  glimmering  thro'  tbo  laurels 

At  the  quiet  evenfall. 

In  the  garden  by  the  turrets 

Of  the  old  manorial  hall. 

XII. 

Would  the  happy  spirit  descend. 
Prom  the  realms  of  light  and  8ou~, 
iu  the  cliamber  or  the  street, 
As  she  looks  among  the  blest. 
Should  I  fear  to  greet  my  friend 
Or  to  say  *'  forgive  the  wrong,'* 
Or  to  ask  her,  *'  take  nie,  sweet. 
To  the  regions  of  thy  rest  ?  " 

XIII. 

But  the  brood  light  glares  nnd  beats, 

And  the  shadow  tilts  and  fleets 

And  will  not  let  me  be ; 

And  I  loathe  the  squares  and  streets. 

And  the  faces  that  one  meets. 

Hearts  with  no  love  for  me  : 

Always  I  lonsr  to  creep 

Into  some  stin  cavern  deep, 

There  to  weep,  and  weep,  and  v.*eep 

Jiy  whole  soul  out  to  thee. 

xxvn. 

I. 

Dead,  long  dead, 
Long  dead  T 

AtuTmy  heart  is  a  handful  of  dust. 
And  the  wheels  go  over  my  head. 
And  my  bones  are  shaken  with  pain. 
For  into   a  shallow  gxavo  they  arc 
thrust, 


Only  a  yard  beneath  the  street. 
And  the  hoofti  of  the  horses  beat,  beat, 
The  hoofs  of  the  horses  beat. 
Beat  into  my  scalp  and  my  brain, 
With  never  an  end  to  the  stream  of 

passing  feet. 
Driving,  hurrying :  marrying,  burying- 
Clamor  and  rumble,  and  ringing  and 

clatter. 
And  here  beneath  it  is  all  as  bad. 
For  I  thought  the  dead  had  peace,  but 

it  is  not  so ; 
To  have  no  peace  in  the  grave,  is  thct 

not  sad  ? 
But  up  and  down  and  to  and  fro, 
Ever  about  me  the  dead  men  go ; 
And  then  to  hear  a  dead  man  chatter 
Is  enough  to  drive  one  mad. 

II. 

Wretchedest  age,  since  Time  bojjan. 

They  cannot  even  bury  a  man ; 

And  tho'  we  paid  our  tithes  iu  the  days 

that  are  gone. 
Not  a  bell  was  rung,  not  a  prayer  was 

read ; 
It  is  that  which  makes  us  loud  in  tho 

world  of  the  dead  ; 
There  is  none  that  does  his  work,  not 

one ; 
A  touch  of  their  office  might  have  suf« 

ficed, 
But  the  churchmen  fain  would  kill 

their  church. 
As  tbo    churches   have    kiird   their 

Christ. 

III. 

Sec,  there  is  one  of  us  sobbing, 

Ko  limit  to  his  distress ; 

And  another,  a  lord  of  all  things,  pray- 
ing 

To  his  own  great  self,  as  I  guess ; 

And  another,  a  statesman  there,  be- 
traying 

His  party-secret,  fool,  to  the  press ; 

And  yonder  a  vile  physician,  blabbing 

The  case  of  his  patient— all  for  what? 

To  tickle  the  maggot  bom  in  an  empty 
head. 

And  whecdlu  a  world  that  loves  him 
not. 

For  it  la  but  a  \7orld  of  the  dead. 

ly. 

Kothing  but  idiot  gabble  I 

For  tlie  prophecy  given  of  <Ad 

And  then  not  understood. 

Has  come  to  pass  as  foretold : 

Not  let  any  man  think  for  tixo  public' 

good. 
But  babble,  merely  for  babble. 
For  I  never  whisper'd  a  private  affair 
Within  the  hearing  of  cat  or  mouse. 
No,  not  to  myself  m  the  closet  alone. 
But  I  heard  it  shouted  at  once  frgm 

the  top  of  the  house; 
Kverjrthing  came  to  be  known  : 
Who  told  him  we  were  theru? 


«PIV 


From  Ihe  nlldemau,  fall  of  wo1y«< 

vbeie  li«  und  to  lu ; 
R>  b>B  gatbec'd  tbe  bones  (or  bla  o'ei 

Sown  irhfllp  lo  crack ; 
themuowfot  joutm  If ,  and  howl 

Prophet,  cnrsoma  tholilabblncllpi 
And  cuiHi  me  tbe  Britlsb  icimlu,  tli< 

I  know  not  vhetlier  ha  came  In  tbi 

Hanoier  ship, 
But  1  know  auu  he  Ilea  oud  listen 


It  &  ever  [ 


eouaLMneEllen 
II,  u  1  divine  ; 

d, 


Butlltnowwlioro  RgardBn  gnrai. 
Knlnr  than  kUBtlC  ill  iliewDtldbeHlde, 
All  made  up  of  tUo  Illy  nnd  rose 
Hut  blow  b;  ulilil,  when  tba  season  is 

To  uo  EOund  of  dancing  mutlc  sjid 


^.VSxaa^^thl 


rad  lite  eput   fur  a  prlinU  ^1 
lo  you.  lawful  nnd  lawleta  nai, 


s,  why  haTO  thay  not  burisd  pis 

kind  to  haYO  mado  me  sgraiSMi 
™gli, 
.  tbat  mai  nayer  a.  quiet  Bleeper? 
Maybe  Billl  I  am  but  liaU-desd  ; 
"■'leu  I  cannot  bo  wholly  dumb  : 
lill  cry  to  tbe  aUipa  above  my  baid 
Id  touiebod]'.  surely,  Bocae  kiud  heu 

1  buty  me,  bnir  ma 

Mv  life  liaa  crept  so  Inuji  on  a  brokBIl 
hiD'  ufils  at  raadneaa,  haunts  of  t 

That  I  come  to  be  crateful  at  lost  t> 

'Ittle  thing : 
My  mood  Is  ohangod,  fot  Ic  fall  a 

lima  of  year 
Wlaii  the  face  of  niglit  U  fair  on 

dewy  dawns. 
And  the  shining  dalCodil  dies,  ukd 


ir  Orion's  era.vB  low  down  la  thai 
That  Ilka  B  Bileut  Ilghtnina  unOer  tb 

iho  Keem'd  to  diyida  in  a  dreim  froi 

a  band  of  Iha  bleat. 
Lnd  spoke  ofnliopofor  tlia  woildl 

the  coming  wars— 
'And  in  that   hope,  dear   soul.  l( 

troablehane  rail 
t:nowinB;Ilarryrocthee,"anJ  pointed 
Is  La  glow'd  lika  a  ruddy  shield  on  tlw 


if  be  bad  not  been  a  Sultmi  of 
JO  Wo  Ibot  holD  l!i  bla  Bide  ? 


Tet  now  I  could  even  veep  lo  thii 

"i 
Per  what  will  the  old  man  taj 
WhBn  he  tomes  to  the  second  iori>«e 

lu  the  pit  r 


WbstSTer  Iha  Quaker  hoi<b.  irom 


as  hut  a  dream,  yet  I 


BtEMb^l 


ytehleA 


Whenl  thought  that  a  wnrw 

indefeneaotlherlEbl, 
That  on  Iron  tyranny  now  sli 


[or  Britain's  one  sole  God  ba  th*  in 

lionnalro : 
!o  more  shall  eommercB  be  all  lo  alV 

and  Peace 


THE  BROOK. 


09 


Pipe  on  her  pastoral  hillock  a  languid 
note, 

AxuX  watch  her  harvest  ripen,  her  herd 
increase, 

Nor  the  caunon-buUet  rust  on  a  sloth- 
ful shore, 

And  the  cobweb  woven  across  the  can- 
non's throat 

Shall  shake  its  threaded  tears  in  the 
wind  no  more. 

III. 

And  as  months  ran  on  and  rumor  of 

battle  grew, 
*<It  is  time,  it  is  time,  O  passionate 

heart,"  said  I 
(For  I  cleave  to  a  cause  that  I  felt  to  be 

pure  and  true), 
**  It  is  time,  O  passionate  heart  and 

morbid  eye, 
That     old    hysterical     mock-disease 

should  die> 
And  I  stood  on  a  giant  deck  and  mix'd 

my  breath 
"With  a  loyal  people  shouting  a  battle 

cry, 
TUl  I  saw  the  dreary  phantom  arise 

and  fly 
Far  into  the  North,  and  battle,   and 

seas  of  death. 

IT. 

Let  it  go  or  stay,  so  I  wake  to  the 

higher  aims 
Of  a  land  that  has  lost  for  a  little  her 

lust  of  gold. 
And  love  of  a  peace  that  was  full  of 

wrongs  and  shames, 
Horrible,  hateful,  monstrous,  not  to 

be  told; 
And  hail  once  more  to  the  banner  of 

battle  unroird ! 
Tho'  many  a  ligl^t  shall  darken,  and 

many  shall  weep 
For  those  that  are  crushed  in  the  clash 

of  jarring  claims, 
Tet  God*s  just  wrath  shall  be  wreaked 

on  a  giant  liar ; 
And  many  a  darkness  into  the  light 

shall  leap, 
And  shine  in  ^e  sudden  making  of 

splendid  names, 
iind  noble  thought  be  freer  imder  the 

sun. 
And  the  heart  of  a  people  beat  with 

one  desire ; 
For  the  peace,  that  I  deem*d  no  peace, 

is  over  and  done. 
And  now  by  the  side  of  the  Black  and 

the  Baltic  deep. 
And  deathf  ul-grinning  mouths  of  tho 

fortress,  flames 
The  blood-red  blossom  of  war  with  a 

heart  of  lire. 

T. 

liet  it  flame  or  fade,  and  the  war  roll 

down  like  a  wind, 
We  have  proved  we  have  hearts  in  a 
I,  we  are  noble  still, 


And  mvself  have  awaked,  as  it  seema^ 

to  the  better  mind ; 
It  is  better  to  tight  for  the  good,  than 

to  rail  at  the  ill ; 
I  have  felt  with  my  native  land,  I  am 

one  with  my  kind, 
I  embrace  the  purpose  of  God,  and  the 

doom  assign'd. 


THE  BROOK; 

AN    IDYL. 

**  Here,  by  this  brook,  we  parted ;  I  to 

the  East 
And  he  for  Italy— too  late— too  late ; 
One  whom  the  strong  sons  of  the  world 

despise ; 
For  luckv  rhymes  to  him  were  scrip 

and  snare, 
And  mellow  metres  more  than  cent  for 

cent: 
Nor  could  he  understand  how  money 

breeds, 
Thought  it  a  dead  thing ;  yet  himself 

could  make 
The  thing  that  is  not  as  the  thing  that 

is. 

0  had  he  lived  !    In  our  schoolbooks 

we  say. 
Of  those  that  held  their  heads  above 

the  crowd, 
They  flourish'd  then  or  then ;  but  life 

in  him 
Could  scarce  be  said  to  flourish,  only 

touch'd 
On  such  a  time  as  eoes  before  the  leaf* 
When  all  the  wooa  stands  in  a  mist  of 

green, 
Andnothing  perfect :  yet  the  brook  he 

loved. 
For  which,  in  branding  summers  of 

Bengal, 
Or  ev'n  the  sweet  half -English  Neil- 

gherry  air 

1  panted,  seems,  as  I  re-listen  to  it. 
Prattling  the  primrose  fancies  of  the 

boy. 
To  me  that  loved  him ;  for  'O  Brook,' 

he  says, 
« O  babbling  brook,*  says  Edmund  in 

his  rhyme, 
<  Whence  come  you  ?  *  and  the  brook, 

why  not  ?  replies : 

I  come  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hem, 

I  make  a  sudden  sally, 
And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 

To  bicker  down  u  valley. 

By  thirty  hills  I  hurry  down. 

Or  slip  between  the  ridges. 
By  twenty  thorps,  a  little  town. 

And  half  a  hundred  bridges.         . 
Till  last  by  Philip's  farm  I  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river. 
For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go 

But  I  go  on  for  ever. 

"Poor  lad,  be  died  at  Florence 
quite  worn  out, 


TSE  BnOOK. 


,   The™  ti  Dani- 


SUmli  PliIUp's  farm  nliere  lirooli  si 


Wlih  nail 

By  mftu. 
And  m»ny  a  fniiT  f"reli 

With  wlllow-weod  and 
I  cliatter,  chBtt«r,  m  I  Hov 
For  tnoii  ma,j  como  aiiS  nie 

"But  Fhlllp  chanered 
*TOnk  OF  b'-" 
M\V;  all 

«"da  Ic 


■H  mj  baiihs  I  fret. 


md  follon, 
land  eel 
id  mallow. 


^Mrplus,  llko  tlie 


I  wind  about,  and  In  snti  out, 


Wilh  many  i 
AboTs  tbe 

And  draw  tl 
To  Jcln  tht 


lallBlmiE.nndlli 


>  on  foe  e 


K 


Bafora  1  patted  with  poc 
By  Ihfll  old  bridge  wlikh,  1 
SOU  inaiteB  a  hoRry  ejeb 
Bfyond  It,  wlieie  Ibe  wat 


Hiletlliig  a   random   bn 

Donii. 
.nd  i.uHb'd  at  Pblllp's 

Tlie  Bate, 
-paited  from  a  waat 


Hnlf- 


oi  Bonny 
ordeo-gate. 

II  d  Koldlng 


A  be  clamor'd  fi'om  nctiHi- 
To  Katla  aomewliere  In  the  walks  be- 

me,  winding  under  woodbiiio 

Alltliefl~ul'teT'd,nitb]iprevellilgdnmi. 
FreBli  apple- blo^ujui,   LlUBliiug  lor  u 

"  What  WQS  lb  ?  leaa  at  a 


neutUuui 


ncaly.monthedpldlan- 
Dl von^e  'Uia  Feeling  f  ram  her  mate  Uie 
(he  told  me.  She  and  Jamealijid 
What  tBuse  of  quarrel?    Xone,  Bhs 


JomeH  bad  m 
the  CBuoc 

I  learnt  [ha 
JealouBici 


I   bad   QI<!ketin( 
Who   anger'd 


^  mnlden  of  our  century,  j'et  moB 

L  daughter  of  our  meadow,  y«t  no 

StiaigbC.  bat   as  ilsaomo  oa  a  baie 

ler  eye*  h  baibful  aiurv.  and  ber  ball 
D  dIobs  aiul  liuB  the  dieiUiut,  whei 
Iha  shell 
Divides  threefold  to  iboiT  the  fruit 

and  her  IST'Off  cousin  and  be- 
trothed, 

James  WIUdhb,  of  one  name  nod  heart 
with  ber. 

Foe  here  1  came,  ttreuty  yoara  baek— 


Some  ficnre  lilt 
Uuflnfm'd,  ill 


like  a  «izard-i 
el.  let  my  q 
Uuahine  S\ 


It    James    vers    coming,      'Coming 
every  day- 
e  aiiBwer'J,   'crer  longliiB  to  ei. 


KoA  James  departed  veit  with  bim 

lowfouldl  belpher?  'Woaldt— was 

Claapt    banila   aai   that  petitionary 

-^t  f^e^l  seventeen  aubducd  me  era 

she  spoke) 
O  would  J  take  her  father  tor  Oao 

half-hour,  and  let  him  talk  to 


And  ei-en  while  she  epoka,  I  saw  wbera 
Made  toward  us,  like  a  wader  In  th« 
Beyonil  the  brook,  wi^t.deep  In 
O  Eaile,  what  1  suSei'd  tor  ywu  safct  I 


THE  BROOK, 


101 


For  in  I  went,  and  caird  old  Philip 

out 
To  show  tho  farm:  full  willingly  he 

roee: 
He  led  me  thzo'  the  shoru  sweet-emell- 

ing  laue:s 
Of  his  wheat-Buburb,  babbling  as  he 

went. 
lie  praised  his  laud,  his  horses,  his 

maciiiues ; 
Ue  praised  his  ploughs,  his  cows,  his 

hogs,  his  dogs ; 
He  praised  his  heus,  his  geese,  his 

guiuearhens ; 
His  pigeons,  who  in  session  on  their 

rools 
Approved  him,  bowing  at  their  own 

deserts : 
Then  from  the  plaintive  mother's  teat 

he  took 
Iler  blind  and  shuddering  puppies, 

.  naming  each, 
And  naming  those,  his  friends,  for 

whom  they  were : 
Then  crost  the  common  into  Darnley 

chase 
To  show  Sir  Arthur*s  deer.    In  copse 

and  f em 
Twinkled  the  innumerable  ear  and  tail. 
Then,   seated  on    a    serpent -rooted 

beech, 
Ue  pointed  out  a  pasturing  colt,  and 

said: 
'  That  was  the  four  year-old  I  sold  tho 

Squire.* 
And  there  he  told  a  long  long«winded 

tale 
Of  how  the  Squire  had  seen  the  colt  at 

Ab^ow  it  was  the  thing  his  daughter 

wished, 
And  how  he  sent  the  bailiff  to  the  farm 
To  learn  the  price,  and  what  the  price 

he  ask'd. 
And  how  the  bailiff  swore  that  he  was 

mad, 
But  he  stood  firm  and  so  the  matter 

hung ; 
He  gave  them  line :  and  five  days  after 

tbat 
He  met  the  bailiff  at  the  Golden  Fleece, 
Who  then  and  there  had  offer'd  some- 
thing more, 
But  he  stood  firm,  and  so  the  matter 

hung; 
He  knew  the  man;  the  colt  would  fetch 

its  price; 
He  gave  them  line :  and  how  by  chance 

at  last 
(It  niig^t  be  May  or  April,  he  forgot. 
The  litft  of  April  or  the  first  of  Afay) 
He  found  the  bailiff  riding  by  the  f  aim. 
And,  talking  from  the  point  he  drew 

him  in, 
And  there  he  mellow'd  all  his  heart 

wiUi  ale, 
Until  they  closed  a  bargain,  hand  in 

hand. 
'flien,  while  I  breathed  in  sight  of 

haven,  he, 


f 


g  our  own  shadows  thrice 


Poor  fellow,  could  he  help  it  ?  recom- 
menced, 

And  ran  thro'  all  the  coltish  chronicle, 

Wild  Will,  Black  Bess,  Tantivy,  Tal- 
lyho, 

Iteform,  White  Rose,  Bellerophou,  the 
Jilt, 

Arbaces,  and  Phenomenon,  and  the 
rest. 

Till,  not  to  die  z  listener,  I  arose. 

And  with  me  Philip,  talking  siill ;  and 
so 

We  turn'd  our  foreheads  from  the  fall- 
ing sun. 

And  foUowin 
as  lonz 

As  when  they  follow' d  us  from  Philip's 
door. 

Arrived,  and  found  the  sun  of  sweet 
content 

Be-risen  in  Katie's  eyes,  and  all  things 
well. 

I  steal  by  lawns  and  grassy  plots, 

I  slide  by  hazel  covers  ; 
I  move  the  sweet  forget-me-nots 

That  grow  for  happy  lovera. 

I  slip,  I  slide,  I  eloom,  I  glance. 
Among  my  skimming  swallows  ; 

I  make  the  netted  sunbeam  dance 
Against  my  sandy  shallows. 

I  murmur  under  moon  and  stars 

In  brambly  wildernesses ; 
I  linger  by  my  shingly  bars ; 

I  loiter  round  my  cresses ; 

And  out  asain  I  curve  and  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river. 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go. 
But  I  go  on  for  ever. 

Yes,  men  may  come  and  go ;  and  these 

are  gone. 
All  gone.  My  dearest  brother,  Edmund 

sleeps. 
Not  by  tne  well-known   stream  and 

rustic  spire. 
But  unfamiliar  Arno,  and  the  dome 
Of  Brunellesclii,  sleeps  in  peace  :  and 

he, 
Poor  Philip,  of  all  his  lavish  waste  of 

words 
Bemains  the  lean  P.  W.  on  his  tomb  : 
I  scraped  the  lichen  from  it :    Katie 

walks 
By  the  long  wash  of  Australasian  Beas 
Far  off,  and  holds  her  head  to  other 

stars. 
And  breathes  in  converse  seasons.  All 

are  gone." 
So  Lawrence  Aylmer,  seated  on  a 

style 
In  the  long  hedge,  and  rolling  in  his 

mind 
Old  waifs  of  rhyme,  and  bowing  o'er 

the  brook 
A  tonsured  head  in  middle  age  forlorn. 
Mused,  and  was  mute.    On  a  sudden  a 

low  breath 
Of  tender  air  made  tremble  in  the 

hedge 


MkJBI 


^—^"^'^ 


12  ODi;  0.\  THE  DEATH  OF 

IB  tra«llo  blndvMd-belli  And  biiony 

id  lirionk'il  up.     Theis   stcnd   a 
maiden  near, 
Catling  to  pua.    Ill  much  amaze  be 


Ihe: 

i>iii« 

wiUiln  : 


hieofoia  la  eliow  the  tnilt 


.    Fiay  nay  N 

VrbK  Ho  Uiey  caH'you?"    "ICat 
"TlMCVer«>tniige. 

WliatmniameV"  '■  Willow*."  "Si 


Vm"i. 

./h»(  rtc*^-"" 


tt  la  tor  m 
"  Indeed  I "  aiid  hoie  bo  looli'd  so  self. 

pernleiit, 
lliBt   Katie   lanvli'd.   and     lauglilng 

bliuh'd,  til)  be 
LauRli'd  alio,  but  oi  oiio  Ucfoco   ba 

ii>  taela  agllmmecliiB  Blransaiicn  in 
hli  dream. 

an  looklna  't  hor;  "Toohnppj-, 
I  rmb  and  fair  lu  our  aad  irorld'a 
bB  the  ghost  of  one  wbo  bora  jour 
out  tlieae  maadowe,  twenlj  yeam 
"nnvaycranot  henrd?"  laid  Kalle, 
Wo  bought  lbs  farm  ve  tenanWd  bo- 
l"iln  like  Jier?  bo  Ihoy  Mid  on 
rjo'u  knew  her  lu  her  English 
nolber.  as  It  (oemi  jon  did,  the 
ranat  ehe  1nve»  W  Inllc  of,  como 
ir  JamOB  Is  In  tho  linrvcft 


My  br"ll 
But   abe 


I   will   t 


THE  LETTEHS. 


And  mw  Iha  allar  cold  and  bare. 
A  clog  of  lead  was  raund  my  feet, 

A  biunl  of  pain  aerona  my  brow  ; 
"Cold  altar,  Heaveu  aud  eattb  aball 

BEfOTD  you  hear  my  marriage  vow." 


tt 


And  then  we  met  In  Wralli  and  wrona 
We  met,  but  onlV  nusant  to  part. 

Fat  I  cold  my  greeting  *aa  and  dry ; 
Sbsfalntlyamlled,  aha  hardl  y  moredi 

I  saw  with  halt-nncooKloaa  oyo 
She  wore  the  colon  1  approred. 


And  gave  my  letters  baek  to  rib. 
And  gave  the  Irinkele  and  Ibe  rluge, 
Hy  glf ta,  when  glfia  ol  uUie  cuu 

AalookBs'fatheron  tbelldngi 
kit  his  dead  son,  1  look'd  on  these. 


The  wooian  caniiol  be  btdiared. 

"Thro'slandOT.meaneBtBpiiwnotHelf  'I 
(And  women'B  Blnxdor  la  Iha  wont^    r 

And  you.  whomoiife  I  IdTedaowr" 
Tbru'  you,  my  life  will  be  aocuiL^        _ 

iBpohe  wlthbeart.andheatandEarM,    Q 
1    shook    liei     Divait    wllb  yagua  J 

-■•     -  ■    from  a  mountain  boi 


Wei 


dlut. 


ach  othefB  i 


Wb  parted  :  sweetly  gleam'dtheBtm,.  ] 
And  sweet  the  vaiior-braJded  blue,       ' 

I^w  breezes  fanuVl  the  beltry  harp. 

As  homeward  br  tha  chardildre*. 
The  very  graves  appear'a  lo  amllo. 

Bo  fresh  tbey  rose  lu  ibadow'dawellt; 

"T>iirk porch,''  Isa1d."andsllent  Bills, 
Thero  romes   a  sound  cf  marilitgo 


Tivnv  Ihe  Great  Duke 
With  an  empire's  lamentatli 

Let  us  bury  Uie  Great  imko 


nilna  when  their  leaden  Ml, 
riiirs  rarry  the  warrinr^  pftll, 
soriDw  darkens  haulEt  and  ball. 


iCrMXulug  Londou's  cauml 


THE  DUKE  OF  WELLING  TO  JST. 


1€8 


Let  tho  found  of  those  lie  wrongbt  for, 
And  the  feet  of  those  he  fought  for, 
Echo  round  his  bones  for  evermore. 

III. 

Lead  out  the  pageant :  sad  and  slow. 

As  fits  an  universal  woe. 

Let  the  long  long  procession  go, 

And  let  the  sorrowing  crowd  about  it 

grow. 
Ano^let  the  mournful  martial  music 

blow ; 
The  last  great  Englishman  is  low. 

IV. 

Mourn,  for  to  us  he  seems  the  last, 
Ilemembering  all  his  gieatness  in  the 

Past. 
Ko  more  in  soldier  fashion   will  he 

greet 
With  lifted  hand  the   gazer  in   the 

street. 
O  friends,  our  chief  state-oracle  is 

mute; 
Mourn  for  tho  man  of  long  enduring 

blood, 
The  statesman>warrior,  moderate,  res- 
olute. 
Whole  in  himself,  a  common  good. 
Mourn  for  the  man  of   amplest  in- 
fluence. 
Yet  clearest  of  ambitious  crime. 
Our  greatest  yet  with  least  pretence, 
Great  in  council  and  great  in  war, 
Foremost  captain  of  his  time, 
Rich  in  saving  common-sense, 
And,  as  the  greatest  only  are, 
In  his  simplicity  sublime. 
O  good  gray  head  which  all  men  knew. 
O  voice  from  which  their  omens  all 

men  drew, 
O  iron  nerve  to  true  occasion  true, 
O  fallen  at  length  that  tower  of  strength 
Which   stood  four-square   to   all  the 

winds  that  blew ! 
Such  was  he  whom  we  deplore. 
The  long  self-sacrifice  of  life  is  o'er. 
The  great  World-victor's  victor  will  be 
seen  no  more. 

All  is  over  and  done : 

Render  thanks  to  the  Giver, 

England,  for  thy  son. 

I^t  the  bell  be  tolVd. 

Render  thanks  to  the  Qiver, 

And  render  him  to  the  mould. 

Under  the  cross  of  gold 

That  shines  over  city  and  river, 

There  he  shall  rest  for  ever 

Among  tlie  wise  and  the  bold. 

Let  the  bell  be  toll'd : 

And  a  reverent  people  behold 

The  towering  car.  the  sable  steeds : 

Bright  let  it  be  with  its  blazou'U  deeds, 

Dark  in  its  funeral  fold. 

Let  the  bell  be  toll'd : 

And  a  deeper  knell  in  the  heart  be 

knoird; 
And  the  sound  of  tho  sorrowing  an- 
them roird 


Thro'  the  dome  of  the  golden  cross-; 
And  the  volleying  cannon  thunder  his 

loss; 
He  knew  their  voices  of  old. 
For  many  a  time  in  many  a  clime 
His  captain*s-ear  has  heard  them  boom 
Bellowing  victory,  bellowing  doom: 
When    he    with    those    deep  voices 

wrought. 
Guarding    realms    and    kings   from 

shame ; 
With  those  deep  voices  our  dead  cap- 
tain taught 
The  tyrant,  and  asserts  his  claim 
In  that  dread  sound  to  the  great  name. 
Which  he  has  worn  so  pure  of  blame. 
In  praise  and  in  dispraise  the  same, 
A  man  of  well-attemper'd  frame. 
O  civic  muse,  to  such  a  name, 
To  such  a  name  for  ages  long,  { 

To  such  a  name.  i 

Preserve  a  broad  approach  of  fame. 
And  ever-echoing  avenues  of  song. 

VI. 

Wlio  is  he  that  cometh,  like  an  hon» 

or'd  guest. 
With   banner  and  with  music,  with 

soldier  and  with  priest. 
With  a  nation  weeping,  and  breaking 

on  my  rest  ? 
Mighty  Seaman,  this  is  he 
Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea. 
Thine  island  loves  thee  well,  thou  fa> 

mousman. 
The  greatest  sailor  since  our  world  be* 

gan. 
Now,  to  the  roll  of  muffled  drums,     i 
To  thee  the  greatest  soldier  comes ; 
For  this  is  he 

Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea ; 
His  foes  were  thine  ;  he  kept  us  free  ; 
Ogive  him  welcome,  this  is  he 
Worthy  of  our  gorgeous  rites, 
And  worthy  to  be  laid  by  tlieo  ; 
For  this  is  England's  greatest  son 
He  that  gain'd  a  hundred  fights. 
Nor  ever  lost  an  English  gun  ; 
This  is  he  that  far  away 
Against  the  myriads  of  Assaye 
Glash'd  with  his  fiery  few  and  won  ; 
And  underneath  another  sun. 
Warring  on  a  later  day, 
Round  affrighted  Lisbon  drew 
The  treble  works  ;  the  vast  designs 
Of  his  labor'd  rampart-lines, 
Where  he  greatly  stood  at  bay, 
Whence  he  issued  forth  anew. 
And  ever  great  and  greater  grew, 
Beating  from  the  wasted  vines 
Back  to  France  her  banded  swarms. 
Back  to  France  with  countless  blows, 
Till  o'er  the  hills  her  eagles  Hew 
Beyond  the  Pyrenean  pines. 
Follow'd  up  in  valley  and  glen 
With  blare  of  bugle,  clamor  of  men, 
Roll  of  cannon  and  clash  of  arms, 
And  England  pouring  on  her  foes. 
Such  a  war  had  such  a  close. 
Again  their  ravening  eagle  rose 


10*  THE  DUKE  OF  \VI::LLINGT01S\ 

In  migar,  wbocl'd  ini  Europa-nhadoir- 


On  tliat 

down; 
A  dny  ot  oiiMti  ot  despair ! 

Tlidr  BurgiiiB  charges  loam-d  tliem- 

BElvefi  awaj  ; 
Last,  the  ProEHlsn  trnrnpet  lilew  ; 
Tliro"  tba  loiiB-iDnnHiit«l  air 
Heaven  flasb'il  n  Euddeii  Jublluit  mjr, 
Aud  down  we  sirept  and  cbaiged  and 

Bo  ETiat  a  soldier  taneht  us  there, 
Wliat  loiig-endDriiiic  iisBiU  cnuld  do 


O  aiuTionr  o(  tljo  rilter-oonaled  We, 
Oahaker  ot  tlio  fialLiu  niid  Uia  Kite, 
IlKUElitofthiuga  that  here  befall 
toDcG  n  spirit  BinoKg  thlnce  divine, 
JI  love  ot  counlry  movo  thea  Uiers  i 


Se  clad,  bMBasa  h 
And  thro'  Iho  tent 
In  full  acdBim, 


ire  laid  bj 
a  pcoplo-B 


evel  and  pomp  HI 

Alleit  their  great  com niaiider's  ch 
^Ith  honor»  lionor,  lioiior,  hoiio 

hlni, 
Zlerjial  nonor  lo  his  name. 


The'  all  men  olsa  lliair  nobler  lii 

iorgel. 
Conf  Deed  by  brainless  mobs  nnd 

Tluuik  Him  who  islBd.  us  here, 

roughly  set 
Hll  Biiion  Inhlown  aeaa  and  BtoT 

Wo  hare  nVoIco,  wlih  which  t< 

the  debt 
or  bouiidleas  lore  and  reverenc 


0  thOio  great  n 
Dd  beep  i(  uiira 


il,  fro: 


O  Statesmen,  guard  us,  guard  Ihe  e 

the  10  ul 
Of  Europe,  keep  our  nobla  Englu 

BetHlxt  a  people  and  their   uicEi 

throne. 
Unit  sober  freedom  out  ot  which  Ok 


'  loyal  passion  tor  our  tempt 

kings ; 

,  saving  that,  ye  help  to  save  i 

pubUo  wrong  be   cnzmbled 

1  drill  the  mw  world  tor  Iho  ni 
oEmind, 
crowds    at  Icnglh  be    sane 

,  v-Uik  iio  more  In  slothful  < 

neniber  bim  wbo  led  your  hoRi 


His  voice  la  sllan 


In  Uiuiiilai 
who  spoke : 


tempeat) 
silent  i  even  It  they  brok 


Wljoi 


hour. 


riitu 


ruth  to 


palter'd  with   Elemol   God  f< 

VHio  let  the  tarbid  Blieamii  ot  nmu 

Tbio'  either  hobbllnB  world   ot  hlsh 

Whose  lile  was  work,  whose  lanGuag* 

Wltb  rugged  maiima  hewn  from  life 
Who  never  opoke  aEnl"Bt  n  foe  i 
Whose  eighty  winters  tteeie  wltlioii 

All   great  self-seekers  trampling  o 

Trutb-telfer  was  our  England's  Alt reJ 

Trulh-lover  was  our  English  Duko : 
Whatever  rerani  leap  to  light 
He  iievet  aholl  be  shamed. 

1,0.  tbe  leader  in  theEe  glorlnns  wan 
Kow  to  ulorlouB  buriol  slowly  borne, 
FoUow'd  by  llio  brave  ot  other  landi, 
lie,  on  whom  from  boiii  lier  open 

lavish  Honor  ahower'd  all  her  staI^ 
And  ailluent  FortDUe  emptied  allhei 

Tea,  let  all  good  Iblngs  nwalt 

But  as  be  laves  or  serres  theaUte. 
Kot  once  or  twice  In  our  rough  ialanft 

Tbo  path  ot  duty  was  the  ivny  lo  sloiyj 
He  tliat  walks  il,  only  tbiiBLfng  '     ' 
For  the  right,  and  lesmB  lo  deaden 
I^DVe  ot  Belt,  betoro  his  Journey  cIoki.— 
H«  Bhall  Hud  tiie  atubboru  Ibletla  bunt- 

Into  gToBsy  pnrplea,  which  ouln 

Kot  oniaor  twfto  li 


TEE  DAISY. 


m 


He,  that  Vfn  following  her  commands. 
Oil  witih  toil  of  heart  and  knees  and 

htttiAs. 
Thto'  the  long  gorge  to  the  far  light 

has  won 
Hi<  path  upwanl,  and  preraird. 
Shall  find  the  toppling  crags  of  Duty 

scaled 
Are  close  upon  the  shining  table-lands 
To  which  our  God  Himself  is  moon 

and  sun. 
Such  was  he  :  his  work  is  done, 
But  while  the  races  of  mankind  en- 
dure, 
Let  his  great  example  stand 
Colossal,  seen  of  every  land, 
And  keep  the  soldier  firm,  the  states- 
man pure : 
Till  in  all  lands  and  thro*  all  human 

story 
The  path  of  duty  be  the  way  to  glory: 
And  let  the  land  whose  hearths  he 

saved  from  shame 
Por  many  and  many  an  age  proclaim 
At  civic  revel  and  pomp  and  game 
And  when  the  long-illumined  cities 

flame. 
Their  ever-loyal  iron  leader's  fame, 
^Vith  honor,  honor,  honor,  honor   to 

him, 
Xltemal  honor  to  his  name. 

IX. 

Peace,  his  triumph  will  be  sung 
By  some  yet  unmoulded  tongue 
Far  on  in  summers  that  we  shall  not 

see  : 
Peace,  It  is  a  day  of  pain 
Por  one  about  whose  patriarchal  knee 
I^te  the  little  children  clung 
O  peace,  it  is  a  day  of  pain 
Per  one,  upon  whose  hand  and  heai't 

and  brain 
Once  the  weight  and  fate  of  Europe 

hung. 
Ours  the  pain,  be  his  the  gain  ! 
More  than  is  of  man's  degree 
Must  be  with  us,  watching  here 
At  this,  our  great  solemnity. 
Wliom  we  see  not  we  revere, 
We  revere,  and  we  refrain 
Prom  talk  of  battles  loud  and  rain, 
And  brawling  memories  all  too  free 
For  such  a  wise  humility 
As  befits  a  solemn  fane  : 
We  revere,  and  while  we  hear 
Tlie  tides  of  Music's  golden  sea 
Setting  toward  eternity, 
Uplifted  high  in  heart  and  hope  are 

we, 
Until  we  doubt  not  that  for  one  sotrne 
There  must  be  other  nobler  work  to  do 
Than  when  he  fought  at  Waterloo, 
And  Victor  he  must  ever  be. 
Por  tho*  the  Qiant  Ages  heave  the  hill 
And  break  the  shore,  and  evermore 
Make  and  break,  and  work  their  will ; 
The'  world  on  world  in  myriad  myriads 

roll 
Bound  us,  each  with  different  powers. 


And  other  forms  of  life  than  ours. 
What  know  we  greater  than  the  soul  ? 
On  God  and  Godlike  men  we  t>uild  our 

trust. 
Hush,  tlie  Dead  March  wails  in  the 

people's  ears  : 
The  dark  crowd  moves,  and  there  aro 

sobs  and  tears  : 
The  black  earth  yawns  :  the  mortal 

disappears  ; 
Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust ; 
He  is  gone  who  seem'd  so  great. — 
Gone  ;  but  nothing  can  bereave  him 
Of  the  force  he  made  his  own 
Being  here,  and  we  believe  him 
Something  far  advanced  in  State, 
And  that  he  wears  a  truer  crown 
Than  any  wreath  that  man  can  weave 

hlni. 
Speak  no  more  of  his  renown, 
l^ay  your  earthly  fancies  down. 
And  in  the  vast  cathedral  leave  him. 
God  accept  him,  Christ  receive  nim. 

1852. 


THE  DAISY. 

"WRITTEN  AT  EDIXBUROtC. 

O  Love,  what  hours  were  thine  and 

mine 
In  lands  of  palm  and  southern  pine 

In  lands  of  palm,  of  orange  blost>oni, 
Of  olive,  aloe,  and  maize  and  vine. 

What  Roman  strength  Turbia  show'd 
In  ruin,  by  tlie  mountain  road  ; 

How  like  a  gem,  beneath,  the  city 
Of  little  Monaco,  basking,  glow'd. 

How  richly  down  tho  rocky  dell 
The  torrent  vineyard  streaming  fell 

To  meet  the  sun  and  sunny  waters. 
That  only  heaved  with  a  summer  swell. 

What  slender  campanili  grew 
By  bays,  the  peacock's  neck  in  hue  ; 
Where,  here  and   there,  on  sandy 
beaches 
A  milky-bell'd  amaryllis  blew. 

How  young  Columbus  seem'd  to  rove, 
Yet  present  in  his  natal  grove, 
Kow  watching   high   on   mountain 
cornice. 
And  steering,  now,  from  a  purple  cove, 

Now  pacing  mute  by  ocean's  rim 
Till,  in  a  narrow  street  and  dim, 

1  stay'd  the  wheels  at  Cogoletto, 
And  drank,  and  loyally  drank  to  him. 

Nor  knew  we  well  what  pleased  us 

most. 
Not   the   dipt   palm   of   which  they 

boast  ; 
But  distant  color,  happy  hamlet, 
A  nioulder'd  citadel  on  the  coast, 

Or  tower,  or  high  hill-convent,  seen 
A  light  amid  its  olives  green  ; 

Or  olive-hoary  cape  in  ocean  ; 
Or  rosy  blossom  in  hot  ravine, 

Where  oleanders  flush'd  the  bed 
Of  silent  torrents,  gravel-spread  : 


i(w  TO  Tut:  r.EV. 

And,  cKXBitiE,  oft  wo  saw  the  (iliitEn 

\V«  loTsd  llrnl  Imll,  Uio'  white  and 

Xlio«  iiichod  ihapw  of  noble  mould, 
A  princely  poo|)lB'B  swf nl  pnuL-w, 
The  grave,  severe  Gonovcsa  ol  old. 
At  Florence  too  what  golden  lionra, 
111  tbOM  long  gallerte",  were  oiiri ; 


4 


Or  pBlaciB,  liow  tbe  oity  elitter''!. 
Tliro'^cypi-BBB  avenuae.  at  our  feet. 
But  wlien  wo  oroat  Uio  Lombitrd  plain 
Itemenibet  what  a  plague  ol  rain. 

or  rahi  at  Reiglo,  rain  at  Parma  ; 
At  Lodl,  laln,  Piacenu,  roln. 
And  Item  and  ead(Hi  rare  theBmllcs 
0(  sunlight)  look'd  tbe  Lombard  piles; 

Porch-pillar*  on  the  Hon  tflBtiiig, 
Aud  Boniura,  old,  colonnaded  aiHlea. 

0  Milan,  0  the  obanting  quires. 
TbD  ciant  window's  blslon'd  flres, 

I'lie  height,  the  apace.  Ihegloutu,  Ine 
glory  T 
A  mount  of  niaible  a  hundred  spires  1 

1  ollmb'd  the  roofs  at  break  Dt  day  ; 
Siin-amiWen  Alps  before  mo  lay. 

And  ilatued  pinnacles,  muto  aa  thej-. 
Kow  faSnlj-fluBh'il,  bow  phantom-fair, 
■Was  Monta  Boia  hanging tli bid 

A  IhouBand  shado  wy-pencllldiallej's 
And  »nowy  dells  In  a  golUeu  air, 
lieioember  how  wo  came  at  last 
toComo  ;  abower  end  storm  and  blast 

Had  blown  the  lake  beyond  his  limit 
And  all  was  Hooded  ;  and  how  wo  past 
From  Como,  when  the  light  was  gray. 
And  In  my  head,  for  halt  the  day , 

Tba  rich  Vlrgl Han  rustic  meaauro 
Of  Lari  Mamiae,  all  tho  way, 
Like  ballad-bunten  music,  kept. 


Or  hardly  slept,  but  watch'd  awaka 
A  cypress  in  tho  moonlight  shalia, 
Tha  mooullgbt  touching  u'ofate 

One  lall  Agavb  above  the  lake. 

A^d;.pS;'o«lot^.pC^^^ 


And  now  It  lolls  of  Italy. 

O  loTo.  we  two  shall  go  no  long. 
To  lands  of  summer  across  llie  bc 
H"deaTtt1ife  your  arnw  enfold 
Whose  rjjliig  is  ii  cry  for  gold  -. 


F.  D.  MAURICL. 

Tel  here  to-night  In  this  dark  rlli, 
When  ill  and  weary,  alone  and  tolu, 
I  found,  tho'  enish'dtohBcdand  dij. 
This  nursling  of  another  sky 

Sllll  In  tbeTlttle  book  Jon  lent  mc. 
And  wheruyou  tenderly  laid  It  by  ; 
And  I  forgot  tbe  clouded  FoUb, 
The_gloom  Ibab^  saddens  Heaven  aiul 

And  gray  niatropolls  of  tho  North. 
PerchanfiO,  to  lull  tho  tbrols  of  pain, 
Pereliance.  to  charm  a  vacant  brain, 
Perchanoa,  to  dream  yon  still  bokle 

My  fancy  fled  lo  the  Soutti  a^ain. 

TO  THE  EET,  F.  D.  JlIATJEICI!. 
Come,  when  no  graver  cares  emplor, 

Making  tbe  UWle  one  leap  forjoy  ; 
For,  beingof  that  honest  fan-, 
Wlio  give  the  Fiend  himself  lila  due. 
Should  elghty-tbousaud  colloge  couu- 


Thunder  "  Anal 
Should  all  our 

if./"!"-. 


lay-beaitU 
(Tak"e'i'tiuidcoina)tQ 
■Where,  far  from  no 

I  watdi  the  twilight  falling  brown 

All  round  a  careless-order'd  garden 
Close  to  tho  ridge  of  a  noble  down. 
You'll  bare  no  scandal  while  yon  dine. 
But  honest  talk  and  wboleeomo  wlnsi 

And  only  hear  the  magplo  gossip 
GarmlouB  under  a  roof  of  pino  : 
For  groves  of  pine  on  either  hand. 


And  tor 


;ofw 


ry'ciiannel 

Ik  end  sand 


■Where,  It  helow  tho  milky  steei. 


IN  MEJIORIAM. 


107 


How  gain  In  life,  as  life  advances ; 
Talor  and  cbarity  more  and  more.  ■ 

Come,  Maurice,  come :  the  lawn  as  yet 


Is^oar  with  rime,  or  spongr-wet ; 

ith  of  March 


has 


But  when  the  wreat 
blossom  *d. 
Crocus,  anemone,  Tiolet, 

Or  later,  pay  one  visit  here. 

For  those  are  few  we  hold  as  dear ; 

Nor  pay  but  one,  but  come  for  many, 
Many  and  many  a  happy  year. 
Januargf  1864. 


WILL. 
I. 

O  WELL  for  him  whose  will  is  strong ! 

He  suffers,  but  he  will  not  suffer  long; 

He  suffers,  but  he  cannot  suffer  wrong : 

For  him  nor  moves  the  loud  world's 
random  mock. 

Nor  all  Calamity's  hugest  waves  con- 
found. 

Who  seems  a  promontory  rock, 

That,  compassed  round  with  turbulent 
sound. 

In  middle  ocean  meets  the  surging 
shock. 

Tempest-buffeted,  citadel-crown'd. 

II. 

But  ill  for  him  who,  bettering  not  with 
time, 

Corrupts  the  strength  of  heaven-de- 
scended Will, 

And  ever  weaker  grows  thro'  acted 
crime, 

Or  seeming-genial  venial  fault. 

Becnrring  and  suggesting  still  t 

He  seems  as  one  whose  footsteps  halt, 

ToUing  in  immeasurable  sand. 

And  o^r  a  weary,  sultry  land. 

Far  beneath  a  blazing  vault, 

Sown  in  a  wrinkle  of  the  monstrous 
hill. 

The  city  sparkles  like  a  grain  of  salt. 


'•'HE  CHAKGE  OF  THE  LIGHT 
BBIGADE. 


Half  a  league,  half  a  lcague» 
Half  a  league  onward. 
All  in  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  fix  hundred. 
'*  Forward,  the  Light  Brigade  ! 
Charge  for  the  guns  !  "  he  said  : 
Into  the  valley  of  Death 

Bode  the  six  hundred. 

II. 

«•  Forward,  the  Light  Bripadt  I  " 
Was  there  a  man  dismay 'd 
Ko  tho*  the  soldier  knew 

Some  one  had  blunder'd : 
Theirs  not  to  make  replv, 
TheiiB  not  to  reason  wh^, 


Theirs  but  to  do  and  die' 
Into  the  valley  of  Death 
Bode  the  six  hundired. 

III. 

Cannon  to  rieht  of  them. 
Cannon  to  left  of  them. 
Cannon  in  front  of  them 

Volley'd  and  thunder'd ; 
Stonn'd  at  with  shot  and  shelly 
Boldly  they  rode  and  well, 
Into  the  Jaws  of  Death, 
Into  the  mouth  of  Hell 

Kode  the  six  hundred. 

IV. 

Flash'd  all  their  sabres  bare, 
Flash'd  as  they  turn'd  in  air 
Sabring  the  gunners  there. 
Charging  an  array,  while 

All  the  world  wonder'd : 
Plunged  in  the  battery-emoke. 
Bight  thro'  the  line  they  broke ; 
Cossack  and  Russian 
Keel'd  from  the  sabre-stroke 

Shatter'd  and  sunder'd. 
Then  they  rode  back,  but  not 

Not  the  six  hundred. 

V. 

Cannon  *to  right  of  them, 
Cainion  to  left  of  them. 
Cannon  behind  them 

Volley'd  and  thunderM ; 
Storm'd  at  with  shot  and  sheU, 
While  horse  and  hero  fell. 
They  that  had  fought  so  well 
Came  thro'  the  jaws  of  Death 
Back  from  the  mouth  of  Hellg 
All  that  was  left  of  tliem, 

Left  of  six  hundred. 

VI. 

When  can  their  glory  fade? 
O  the  wild  charge  they  made  I 

All  tho  world  wonder'd. 
Honor  the  charge  they  made ! 
Honor  the  Light  Brigade, 
Noble  six  hundred ! 


IN  :^iemoria:m. 

SxRoyo  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love. 

Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  thy 
face. 

By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  embrace. 
Believing  where  we  cannot  prove ; 

Thine  are  these  orbs  of  light  and  shade; 

Thou  madest  Life  in  man  and  brute; 

Thou  madest  Death;    and  lo,  thy 
foot 
Is  on  the  skull  which  thou  hast  mode. 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  us  in  the  dust : 
Thou  madest  man,  he  knows    not 

why  ; 
He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die  ; 
And  thou  host  made  him:  thou  art 

just. 
Th^vi  seemest  human  and  divlna. 
The  highest,  holiest  TOa\\\iocH\A\vo!^  * 


7iV  ifE:^0RIA3T. 


Oar  llltle  STsMms  !>■*«  tliclr  day ; 

TbBv  ace  buc  bnikeu  IlgliU  o[  (bee, 
Auil  Uiou,  O  IarI,  act  mora  tbui  Itie;. 
We  Iiave  tint  faith  :  weoannot  knuw  : 

For  knowledge  la  of  things  vto  Ko  ; 

A  beam  In  dHikneei :  let  11  gran. 
i*t  knowledge    grow  from   moro    to 

But  more  of  reverence  in  u»  dwell ; 

'llint  niliiil  aiul  loul,  according  well, 
May  itiftke  dub  music  as  lietore. 
But  vMter.    We  are  tools  Bncl^lteht ; 

We  mock  thee  when  we  •!□  iwt  fear : 

But  help  tb;  fooliBli  ones  Id  bear: 
Help  thy  vain  worldi  vo  bear  thy  light. 
FornlTe  what  aeetn'il  my  aininme^ 

What  aeflia'il  my  worth  oLui/e  1  be- 

For  merit  IItcb  from  man  to  mnn, 
And  not  from  man,  O  Lonl,  lo  thee. 
FornivB  my  Biiaf  for  one  remoTcd, 

Thy  crestute.  whom  I  found  bo  fair. 

I  truit  lis  Uvea  In  Uiee,  and  lliere 
1  And  him  worthier  to  be  loved. 
F□rgl^■e   Iheaa   wild    and  wandering 

Foiglvo  tbem  where  ibey  f^ill  In 
ADd  lu  tby  witdom  make  me  wIbb. 


I  BBLtj  It  Imth.  with  him  who  Blum 
To  ona  clear  harp  In  dlveiB  Innca, 
That  meu  may  rleo  an  eteppiag- 

Of  t£elr  dead  lelres  to  higher  things. 
But  who  Bliall  so  f  ore<-»«t  the  yeitr* 

Or  reach  n  band  tbro'  tlmo  to  catch 
UK  larHJiIinteitiMottears? 
T4t   Lore  clasp   Orlef  IciC  both   be 
drown'd. 
Let  darkiieBii  keep  her  Tavcii  bIom  : 
Ah.  Bweeterto  be  drunk  with  loas. 
To  dance  with  deatb,  to   beat  tbe 


t  the  tIcIot  Hours  should 


.-^ 


•  Behold  Ibo  man  that  loved  and 

lOBf. 

But  all  he  was  Is  overworn." 


pldTbw,  wWcbgraapcBtat  thcBlonet 

'i-hat  name  the  under-lying  dead. 

Thy  flbreh  net  the  dreamlEsD  bead, 


'rapt  al 


me  nrsiiitig  to  the  Horii 

n  ..u  111  mu  dUBk  of  ihco,  the  clOck 

BealB  out  the  little  lives  of  men. 

O  not  for  thee  the  glow,  the  bloom 
Who  changeet  not  in  any  gnle, 
hor  btandmg  BuuimerBuus  avail 

To  touch  thy  thousand  years  of  gtoon 

And  garing  on  thee,  aullau  tree, 
Sick  for  tliy  stubborn  hardihood, 
I  seem  to  fail  from  out  my  blood 

And  grow  Incorporate  luto  Uies. 


OSoBt 


8l  tellowBhlp, 


b  Prieatcsain'thB  vaults  oi  Deitk, 
What  whispers  from  tby  lying  Up 
"The  stars,"  elie  whlBpors,  "bll; 

A  web  is  wov'n  atroiB  the  sky  i 
And  mm'murs  from  the  dying  aiiu 
"And    all    the    phantom,    Kalnit 

With  all  the  mnBlo  in  her  tous. 
A  hollow  echo  of  my  own,— 
A  hollow  fonn  with  empty  handa.^ 
And  Bhall  I  Uk( 


Upon  the 


bUnd. 

Df  blood,' 


ro  Sleep  I  give  my  power*  «w«y 
My  will  Is  bondsman  lo  the  du 
lalt  wttMnahelmlfwbnrk, 
And  with  my  heart  1  muse  ■iid  n 
3  heart,  how  tares  It  with  Ihea  imw. 
That  thou  ahouldet  fail  from  tby  d*> 

ely  darest  to  ln,f]utte. 


'  Wbat  la 


Blow* 


ibliie   Baily 
Break,  thou  deep  Taae  of  chlllbif 

t  grief  bath  Bboken  Into  ftoBt 

I  cloutla  of  nameless  trouble  ■ 

1  night  below  tlie  darkeii'd  eyai ; 
ill!  niondng  wakes  Iba  will,  Bud 

LOU  siiolt  not  be  the  fool  of 


K,  like  Xatnrfl.  haJf  rereal 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


109 


'wandcrinjr 


I 


But,  for  tho  unquiet  heart  find  brain, 
A  use  in  measured  language  lies ; 
The  sad  mechanic  exercise,* 

like  dull  uarcoUcSi  numbing  pain. 

In  words,  like  weeds,  1*11  wrap  me 
o'er, 
Like   coarsest  clothes  against  the 

cold; 
But  that  large  grief  which  these  en- 
fold 
Is  given  in  outline  and  no  more. 

TI. 

OxR  writes,  that  **  Other  friends  re- 
main," 
That  *•  IjOss  is  common  to  the  race,"— 
And  common  is  the  commonplace, 

And  vacant  chaft  well  meant  for  grain. 

That  loss  is  common  would  not  make 
BIy  own  less  bitter,  rather  more  : 
Too  common  !    Never  morning  wore 

To  eyenlng,  but  some  heart  did  break. 

O  father,  wheresoe*er  thou  be. 
Who  pledgest  now  thy  gallant  ton  ; 
A  shot,  ere  half  thy  draught  be  done. 

Hath  sUll*d  the  life  that  beat  from 
thee« 

O  mother,  praying  God  will  save 
Thy    sailor, —  while    thy    head    I3 

bow'd. 
His  heavy-shotted  hammock-shrond. 
Drops    in  his  vast    aiul 
grave. 

To  know  no  more  than  I  who  wronrfit 
At  that  last  hour  to  please  liini  well ; 
WHio  mused  on  all  I  had  to  tell, 

And  somethhig  written,  something 
thought ; 

Expecting  still  his  advent  homo  ; 
Au<l  ever  met  him  on  his  way 
With  wishes,  thinking,  here  to-day, 

Or  here  to-morrow  will  he  come. 

O  wmewhere,  meek  unconscious  dove, 
That  sittest  ranging  golden  hair ; 
And  glad  to  lind  thyself  so  fair. 

Poor  child,  that  waitest  for  thy  love  ! 

For  now  her  father's  chimney  glows 

In  expectation  of  a  cucst ; 

And  thinking  **  this  will  plcaso  liim 
best." 
She  takes  a  riband  or  a  roso ; 

For  ho  will  see  thom  on  to-night ; 

Autl  with  the  thought  her  color 
burns ; 

And,  having  lef  i  the  glass,  pho  tunis 
Once  more  to  set  a  ringlet  ri^ht ; 

And,  oven  when  she  tnm'd,  the  curse 
Had  fallen,  and  her  future  I^rd 
Was  drowu*d  in  passhig  thro'   the 
ford. 

Or  kill'd  in  falling  from  his  horse. 

O  what  to  her  shall  be  the  end  ? 

And  what  to  me  remains  of  good  ? 

To  her,  perpetual  maidenhood, 
And  unto  mo  no  second  friend. 


TIT. 


Dark  hotuie,  by  which  once  more  I 
stand 
Here  in  the  long  nnlovely  street. 
Doors,  where  my  heart  was  used  to 
beat 
So  quickly,  waiting  for  a  hand, 

A  hand  that  can  be  claspM  no  more,— 
Behold  me,  for  1  cannot  sleep. 
And  like  a  guilty  thing  I  creep 

At  earliest  morning  to  the  door. 

He  is  not  here  ;  but  far  away 
The  noise  of  life  becins  again. 
And  ghastly  thro*  the  drizzling  rain 

On  the  bald  street  breaks  tho  blank 
day. 

VIII. 

A  HAPPY  lover  who  lins  come 
To  look  on  her  that  loves  him  well. 
Who  'lights  and  rings  the  gateway 
bell. 
And  learns  her  gone  and  far  from 
home  ; 

He  saddens,  all  tho  magic  light 
Dies  off  at  once  from  bower  and  hall. 
And  all  the  place  is  dark,  and  all 

The  chambers  emptied  of  delight : 

Go  find  I  every  pleasant  spot 
In  which  we  two  were  wont  to  meet* 
The    field,   the    chamber,  and  the 
street. 

For  all  is  dark  where  thou  art  not. 

Yet  as  that  other,  wandering  there 
In  those  deserted  walks,  may  find 
A  fiower  beat  with  rain  and  wind. 

Which  once  she  foster'd  up  with  care  { 

£0  seems  it  in  my  deep  regret. 

0  my  forsaken  heart,  with  thco 
And  this  poor  flower  of  poesy 

Which  little  cared  for  fades  not  yet. 

But  since  it  pleased  a  vanish'd  eye, 

1  CO  to  plant  it  on  his  tomb. 
That  if  it  can  it  tliere  may  b1oom» 

Or  dying,  there  at  least  may  die. 

IX. 

Fair  ship,  that  from  the  Italian  shore 
Sailcst  the  ])lacid  ocean-plains 
With  my  lost  Arthur's  loved  remains, 

Spread  thy  full  wings,  and  waft  him 
o'er. 

Co  draw  him  home  to  those  that  mouni 
In  vain  ;  a  favorable  speed 
Kuftio  thy  rairror'd  mast,  and  lead 

Tliro'  prosperous  Hoods  his  holy  urn. 

All  night  no  ruder  air  perplex 
Thy   sliding    keel,    till    Phosphor, 

bright 
As  our  pure  love,  thro*  early  light 

Shall  glimmer  on  the  dewy  decks. 

Sphere  all  your  lights  around,  above  ; 
Sleep,  gentle   heavens^  before   th3 

prow; 
Sleep,  gentle  winds,  AS  he  sleeps 
now, 
Sfy  friend)  tho  btotJict  ol  tkj  \o^t ; 


'i 


V 


7iV  SIEMORIAJI. 

..^ m  I  rtiKl!  not  iea 

Irm  all  inv  nHaoWil  raw  bo  run 

Dear  »■  ihe  mother  tn  iliti  noii. 
More  Uuui  my  brotlieii  ate  in  me. 


MyJu 

Till 


le  About  Iby  keol 


night  1 


Ai«l  lotlera  unto  trembllnc  band*  : 
nil.  Uiy  dark  freigbt,  ft  Taiilih'rt  life. 
1  bring  blm  ■.  we  hiiTa  idlo  ilroaiim  i 
TblB  look  of  quiet  rtttHani  Uiub 
UuT  beme-biea  fancier :  O  10  ui. 
TI.B  looli  o£  habit,  «wBat8r  ■euma 
To  rest  benesih  the  f  loror  ewl, 
Tbat  lakes   the  Biuiahiue  and  Uii 

Or  Hbera  IheVneiUngfaanilet  draliu 
The  chalice  of  the  grapes  ot  Uod  ; 
l-han  ir  itltii  Ibee  llie  roaring  wcn» 
"'lOuUl   eolf  him    (alboiuHleep    li 
tiiine; 
111  bands  Bo  oflen  pioap'il  in  mine. 


oimil, 


pattering  tb  the  grouiiil 
aim  and  deep  pear 
ivolil. 

AiiofrthfldUeryi 


nnyousrenlpln 
I  nil  lia  autuu 

rowded  (arms  and  IcMcnli 
To  mlugls  with  the  bounding  main  : 
Calm  Rnd  deep  peace  In  this  wide  n1i 
These  leaves  that  redden  to  tlis  iai 
And  m  mj  heart,  If  calm  1 
It  any  ™im,  d  culm  dEapulr 
Calm  on  the  seas,  and  illTCi 
Aiid  waves  that  *<ra;  the 

And  dead  cBlin  In  tbt 


falll 


with  Um  hea 


IiO,  BsadoTO  wlien  np  shoKprlnBS 
To  bear  thco"  Heaven  n  tale  of  woe 
Some  dolorous  inessai^  knit  liclorr 


rotsouibetnsblo*, 


And  reach  the  gl 
Anil  linger  woepiiig  on  the  mni^o, ' 
Aiid  saying:   "Comes   be  thos,    n 
trloniir 
Tsthtatbe  end  of  all  my  care?" 
And  circle  moaiUnE  in  ihe  *lt: 
■  Is  tills  Ihe  end?    Is  ihuUiesiid?' 
And  forwurd  dart  again ,  and  play 
About  the  prow,  ami  back  retuni 
To  where  the  body  alts,  and  leant, 
TbaC  1  have  been  an  iionr  away. 

Tearh  ot  the  widower,  n-hen  he  »ea 

Kl  liiDvea  hlB  donbtful^arnu.  aii 

■eela 

place  it  empty,  fall  liko  these  ; 


\ 


.Toidw 


re  hen 


a  bauds  have  pnwt 
Slleiice,  till  i  be  lUent  loo. 
Which  weep  the  comradeof  my  elioto*. 
■ '-  'bDught,  a  llfo  remove." 


.and  teach  IBB.  many  yearn.  J 


high 


bout  tile  aiiprouhliig  ■ 
rought  but  merchanCi 
den  that  they  brtug. 


AndsUndlng. 

Should  lee  thy  i«     .  .„ , 

Come  etepplng    lightly    down  Iha   ] 

And  beckonlns  unto  those  (heykna 

Audit  along  with  tJiemslionld  MB 
The  man  f  held  as  balf-dlylne ;  _ 

SbDnldiitrlkeasudden  handiiimltUh  I 

And  nsk  a  ihouaand  things  ot  hoiue  ; 

And  I  Bhould  tell  him  all  my  pWn, 
And  bo w  my  lifa  had  droop'd  u(  !«(•, 
AndhDBlioiildsnm.wo'ermyslals   . 

And  marvel  w  hat  possess'd  my  br^n; 

And  I  petcelTBd  nc 
No  hint  oft'      ■ 


:  of  death  In  all  hi 


I  leave  tiS*  mortal  orK  beblud. 


-/ 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


Ill 


*nio  last  red  Icftf  is  wlilrl'd  awajr, 
The  I'ooks  are  blown  about  the  skies ; 

Tlie  forest  crack'd,  the  waters  curl'd, 
The  cattle  huddled  on  the  lea ; 
And  wildly  dash'd  on  tower  and  tree 

The  sunbeam  strikes  along  the  world  : 

And  but  for  fancies,  which  arer 
That  all  thy  motions  gently  pass 
Althwart  a  plane  of  molten  glass, 

J  scarce  could  brook  the  strain  and 
stir 

Tliat  makes  the  barren  branches  loud ; 
And  but  for  fear  it  is  not  so. 
The  wild  unrest  that  lives  in  woe 

"Would  dote  and  pore  on  yonder  cloud 

That  rises  upward  always  higher, 
And  onward  drags  a  laboring  breast, 
And  topples  round  the  dreaiy  west, 

A  looming  bastion  fringed  with  Hre. 

XVI. 

What  words  are  these  have  falPn 
from  me  ? 
Can  calm  despair  and  wild  unrest 
Be  tenants  of  a  single  breast. 

Or  sorrow  such  a  changeling  be  ? 

Or  doth  she  only  seem  to  take 
The   touch  of  change  in  calm  or 

storm; 
But  knows  no  more  of  transient  form 

In  her  deep  self,  tlian  some  dead  lake 

That  holds  the  shadow  of  a  lark 
Hung  in  the  shadow  of  a  heaven  ? 
Or  has  the  shock,  so  harshly  given. 

Confused  me  like  the  unhappy  bark 

That  strikes  by  night  a  craggy  shelf. 
And  staggers  blimlly  ere  she  sink  ? 
And  stunn'd  me  from  luy  power  to 
think 

And  all  my  knowledge  of  myself ; 

And  made  me  that  delirious  man 
Whose  fancy  fuses  old  and  new. 
And  flashes  into  false  and  true, 
And  mingles  all  without  a  plan  ? 

XVII. 

Thou  comest,  much  wept  for :  such  a 
breeze 
Compell'd    thy    canvas,    and     my 

I)rayer 
was  as  the  whisper  of  an  air 
To  breathe  thee  over  lonely  seas. 

For  I  in  spirit  saw  thee  move 
Thro*  circles  of  the  bounding  sky. 
Week  after  week  :  the  days  go  by : 

Come  quick,  thou  bringest  all  1  lovo. 

Henceforth,    wherever    thou    may'st 
roam. 
My  blessing,  like  a  line  of  light, 
Is  on  the  waters  day  and  nignt. 

And  like  a  beacon  guards  thee  home. 

So  may  whatever  tempest  mars 
Mid  ocean,  spare  thee,  sacred  bark ; 
And  balmv  drops  in  summer  dark 

Slide  from  tne  bosom  of  the  stars. 

So  kind  an  ofllce  hath  been  done, 
Sudi  precious  relics  brought  by  thee; 


The  dust  of  him  I  shall  not  see 
Till  all  my  widow'd  race  be  run. 

XVIII. 

'Tis  well ;   'tis  something ;   we  may 
stand 
Where  he  in  English  earth  is  laid, 
And  from  his  ashes  may  be  made 

The  violet  of  his  native  land. 

*Tis  little  ;  but  it  looks  in  truth 
As  if  the  quiet  bones  were  blest 
Among  familiar  names  to  rest 

And  in  the  places  of  his  youth. 

Come  then,  pure  hands,  and  bear  the 
head 
That  sleeps  or  wears  the  mask  of 

sleep. 
And  come,  whatever  loves  to  weep, 
And  hear  the  ritual  of  the  dead. 

Ah  yet.  ev'n  yet,  if  this  might  be, 
I,  falling  on  his  faithful  heart. 
Would  breathing  thro'  his  lips  im- 
part 

The  life  that  almost  dies  in  me ; 

That  dies  not,  but  endures  with  pain. 
And  slowly  forms  the  tirnier  mind. 
Treasuring  the  look  it  cannot  find, 

The  words  that  are  not  heard  again. 

xrx. 

The  Danube  to  the  Severn  gave 
The  darkeu'd    heart   that  beat  no 

more ; 
They  laid  him  by  the  pleasant  shore. 

And  in  the  hearing  of  the  wave. 

There  twice  a  day  the  Severn  fills  ; 
The  salt  sea- water  passeK  by. 
And  hushes  half  the  babbling  Wye, 

And  makes  a  silence  in  the  hills. 

The  Wye  is  hush'd  nor  moved  alonjj 
And  hushM  my  deepest  grief  of  all. 
When  fiird  with  tears  that  cannot 
fall, 

T  brim  with  sorrow  drowning  song. 

Tlie  tide  flows  «lown.  the  wave  again 
Js  vocal  in  its  wooded  walls  ; 
My  deeper  anguish  also  falls. 

And  1  can  speak  a  little  then. 

XX. 

The  lesser  griefs  that  may  be  said, 
Thatr    breathe   a   thousand    tender 

vows. 
And  but  as  servants  in  a  house 

Where  lies  the  master  newly  dead  ; 

Who  speak  their  feeling  as  it  is. 
And  weep  the  fulness  from  the  mind: 
*'  It  will  be  hard,"  they  say,  '*  toUnd 

Another  service  such  as  thLi." 

My  lighter  moods  are  like  to  these. 
That  out  of  words  a  comfort  win  ; 
But  there  are  other  griefs  within, 

And  tears  that  at  their  fountain  freeze^* 

For  by  the  hearth  the  children  Sit 
Cold  iu  that  atmosphere  of  I>eafh| 


r 


Or  Ilka  ID  uolseloet  plinntomB  flit: 

Bnt  open  coiiTeiiK  !■  there  none. 

Bo  ini]i:h  tlie  vital  Bjitrlu  tliilc 

To  »e  the  vacant  chair.  a»'\  tli 

"How  good!  liovr    kluil !  and  I 

I  ana  to  lilm  llmt  reits  below. 


And    Bometlnms    banhl;    wLU    liu 
■<  Tbis  fsllow  iTQuld  mako  veoIuieH 


Another aoBwam  "Let Mm  lip, 
Ha  lovei  to  make  pnraile  o{  ginln. 
That  with  hla  piping  ho  insy  (lain 

—  BO  that  comM  lo         "  " 


IX  MEMoniAM. 

Aii>l  think,  Umb  M 
lis  Sbndovi  Bits  and 


I 


And  wo  wlUi  singing  cheerM 

ilk'd  began 


And  bore  thee  nliero  1 1 


Kor  follow,  Iho'  I 


Tlietjhadow  oloiik'd  Irom  head  to  toot 

\i\xo  keeps  the  ken  of  (til  tlie  creisli 
I  wander,  often  lallinK  lame, 
And  looking  back  to  whence  I  mm. 

Or  on  to  wuere  the  pntliviay  leuU ; 

And  crying.  How  change  J  Croni  whsre 
Xliro'  lands  where  not  11  lanl  nu 

Due  all  thii  laTlah  hills  woa 
llie  monnur  of  a  liappy  Pan : 
When  each  by  tuniB  was  guidoloeaeh. 
And  FaucyllBht  from  Fancy  caugbt. 
And  ITionght '— •  — • '  -'■'■ 

.    ought  coQld  wed   Ituelt  with 

1  BllwemetwaB  fair  and  traod, 
L  nit  wOB  good  that  Time  vDi 

[_all  !ha  Becrct  of  the  Spring 


hebloodi 


IB  Iho  day  of  ray  delight 


irth  bftd  been  the  randlia 
■a  Adam  leEt  hli  Eiu^n  yab 
id  U  it  that  tho  haze  of  grief 


A  irlory  from  Its  belns  1 


irthBittblBWi 


t,  the  (rank 


Tho  'rJsTly  tiaideii"f  or  the  Lack' 
~  at  this  It  yim  that  made  me  mo' 

As  light  as  carrler-hitds  In  air  i 

1  loved  the  weight  I  bad  fa  beai 

ccsuse  It  ueodcd  help 

or  oouM  I  weaij.  lieai 

Wbcn  inigbty  Love  w 


wlinib. 


IN  M£MORIAM. 


113 


I 


Tlie  lading  of  a  singlo  pain, 
And  piut  it,  giving  lialf  to  him. 

XXVI. 

Still  onwards  winds  the  dreary  way ; 
I  with  it ;  for  I  long  to  prove 
Ko  lapse  of  moons  can  canker  Love, 

Whatever  fickle  tongues  may  say. 

And  if  that  eye  which  watches  guilt 
And  »9odness,  and  had  power  to  see 
Within  the  green  the  moulder'd  tree, 

And  towers  fall'u  as  soon  as  built— 

Cf ,  if  indeed  tliat  eye  foresee 
Or  see  (in  Him  is  no  before) 
In  more  of  life  true  life  no  more 

And  Love  the  indifference  to  be. 

Then  might  I  find,  ere  yet  the  mom 
Breaks  hither  over  Indian  seas, 
That  Shadow  waiting  with  the  keys, 

To  shroud  me  from  my  proper  scorn. 

xxvii. 

I RNVT  not  in  any  moods 
The  captive  void  of  noble  rage, 
The  linnet  born  within  the  cage, 

That  never  knew  the  summer  woods: 

1  envy  not  the  beast  that  takes 
Uis  license  in  the  field  of  time. 
Unfettered  by  the  sense  of  crime^ 

To  whom  a  conscience  never  wakes ; 

Kor,  what  may  count  itself  as  blest, 
The  heart  that  never  plighted  troth. 
But  stagnates  in  the  weeds  of  sloth ; 

Kor  any  want-begotten  rest. 

1  hold  it  true,  whate'er  befall ; 

I  feel  it,  when  I  sorrow  most ; 

'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Thau  never  to  have  loved  at  all. 

XXVIII. 

Ths  time  draws  near  the  birth  of 
Christ: 

The  moon  is  hid ;  the  night  is  still ; 

The  Christmas  bells  from  hill  to  hill 
Answer  each  other  in  the  mist. 

Four  voices  of  four  hamlets  round, 
From  far  and  near,  ou  mead  and 

moor, 
Swell  out  and  fail,  as  if  a  door 

Were  shut  between  me  and  the  sound : 

Each  voice  four  changes  on  the  wind. 
That  now  dilate,  and  now  decrease. 
Peace  and  goodwill,  goodwill  and 
peace. 

Peace  and  goodwill,  to  all  mankind. 

This  3rear  I  slept  and  woke  with  pain, 
I  almost  wished  no  more  to  wake. 
And  that  my  hold  on  life  would  break 

Before  I  heard  those  bells  again : 

But  they  my  troubled  spirit  inilc. 
For  they  controll'd  me  when  a  boy ; 
They  bxing  me  sorrow  touch'd  with 

.   Joy. 
The  meny  merry  bells  of  Yule. 

XXIX. 

With  ioch  compelling  cause  to  grieve 
Aa  daily  vexes  household  peace, 


And  chains  regret  to  his  decease. 
How  dare  we  keep  our  Christmas-eve ; 

Wliich  brings  no  more  a  welcome  guest 
To  eiurich  the  tliresliold  of  the  night 
With  shower'd  largess  of  delight. 

In  dance  and  song  and  game  and  jest. 

Yet  go,  and  while  the  holly  boughs 
Kntwine  the  cold  baptismal  font. 
Make  one  wreath  mora  for  Use  and 
Wont. 

That  guard  the  portals  of  the  house ; 

Old  sisters  of  a  day  gone  by, 
Gray  nuraes,  loving  notlung  new ; 
Why  should  they  miss  their  early  due 

Before  their  time?    They  too  will  die. 

XXX. 

With  trembling  fineers  did  we  weave 
The     holly    lound    the    Christmas 

hearth ; 
A  rainy  cloud  possessed  the  earth. 

And  sadly  fell  our  Christmas-eve. 

At  our  old  pastimes  in  the  hall 
We  eambol'd,  making  vain  pretence 
Of  gladness,  with  an  awful  sense 

Of  one  mute  shadow  watching  all. 

We  paused,  the  winds  were  in  the 
beech : 
We  heard  them  sweep  the  winter 

land ; 
And  in  a  circle  hand-in-hand 
Sat  silent,  looking  each  at  each. 

Tlien  echo-like  our  voices  rang ; 
We  sung,  tlio*  every  eye  was  dim, 
A  merry  song  we  sang  with  him 

Last  year :  impetuously  we  sang : 

We  ceased :  a  gentler  feeling  crept 
Upon  us  :  surely  rest  is  meet : 
"  They  rest,"  we  said,  '•  their  sleep  Is 
sweet," 

And  silence  follow*d,  and  we  wept. 

Our  voices  took  a  higher  range  ; 
Once  more  we  sang :  **  They  do  not 

die 
Nor  lose  their  mortal  sympathy, 
Kor    change    to    us,    although   they 
change ; 

Bapt  from  the  fickle  and  the  frail 
with  gather'd.  power,  yet  tlie  same. 
Pierces  the  keen  seraphic  fiame 

From  orb  to  orb,  from  veil  to  veil." 

Rise,  happy  mom,  rise,  holy  mom. 
Draw  forth  the  cheei-f ul  day  from 

night: 
O  Father,  touch  the  east,  and  light 
The  light  that  shone  when  Hope  was 
bora. 

XXXI. 

When  Lazaums  left  his  chamel-cave, 
And  home  to  Mary's  house  retum'd, 
Was  this  demanded— if  he  yearn'd 

To  hear  her  weeping  by  his  grave? 

"  Where  wert  thou,  brother,  those  fouf 
days?" 
There  lives  no  record  of  reply. 


v 


IN  MEMORIAM, 


m 


Qo  down  beside  thy  natire  rill, 
On  thy  Parnassus  set  thy  feet, 
And  hear  thy  laurel  whisper  sweet 

About  the  ledges  of  the  hill." 

And  my  Meh>omene  replies, 
A  touch  orshame  upon  her  cheek  ; 
'*  I  ain  not  worthy  ev'n  to  speak 

Of  thy  prevailing  mysteries ; 

For  I  am  but  an  earthly  Muse, 
And  owning  but  a  little  art 
To  lull  with  song  an  aching  heart. 

And  render  human  love  his  dues  ; 

But  brooding  on  the  dear  one  dead, 
And  all  he  said  of  things  divine, 
(And  dear  to  me  as  sacred  wine, 

To  dying  lips  is  all  he  said), 

1  murmur'd,  as  I  came  alonc^, 
Of  comfort  clasp'd  in  trutn  reveal'd ; 
Anil  loiter'd  in  the  master's  tield. 

And  darkened  sanctities  with  song. ' 

ZXXYIII. 

With  weary  steps  I  loiter  on. 
Tbo*  always  under  alter'd  skies 
The  purple  from  the  distance  dies, 

My  prospect  and  horizon  gone. 

Ko  joy  the  blowing  season  gives, 
The  herald  melodies  of  spring. 
But  in  the  songs  I  love  to  sing 

A  doubtful  gleam  of  solace  lives. 

If  any  care  for  what  is  here 
Survive  in  spirits  render'd  free. 
Then  are  these  songs  1  sing  of  thee 

Kot  all  ungrateful  to  thine  ear. 

XXXIX. 

Olt>  warder  of  these  buried  bones, 
Ana    answering    now   my   random 

stroke 
"With    fruitful    cloud    and    living 
smoke. 
Dark  yew,  that  graspest  at  the  stones 

And   dippest  toward  the    dreamless 
head, 
To  thee  too  comes  the  golden  hour 
When  flower  is  feeling  after  flower  ; 

But  Sorrow  flxt  U{K>n  the  dead, 

And  darkening  the   dark   graves   of 
men, 

Wliat  whisper'd  from  her  lying  lips  ? 

Thy  gloom  is  kindled  at  the  tips, 
And  passes  into  gloom  again. 

XL. 

CuuLD  we  forget  the  widowM  hour 
And  look  on  Spirits  breathed  away, 
As  on  a  maiden  in  the  day 

T/nen   first  she  wears    her  orange- 
flower  ! 

When  crown'd  with  blessing  she  doth 
rise 
To  take  her  latest  leave  of  home, 
And  hopes  and  light  regrets  that 
come 
ifake  April  of  her  tender  eyes ; 

And  doubtful  joys  the  father  move. 
And  tears  are  on  the  mother's  face. 


As  parting  with  a  long  embrace 
She  enters  other  realms  of  love ; 

Her  office  there  to  rear,  to  teach, 
Becoming  as  is  meet  and  flt 
A  link  among  the  days,  to  knit 

The  generations  each  with  each ; 

And  doubtless,  unto  thee  is  given 
A  life  that  beats  immortal  fruit 
In  such  great  ottices  as  suit 

The  full-grown  energies  of  Leaven. 

Ay  me,  the  difference  I  discern  ! 
iiow  often  shall  her  old  flreside 
Be  cheer'd  with  tidings  of  the  bride, 

How  often  she  hei-self  return. 

And  tell  them  all  they  would  have 
told, 
And  bring  her  babe,  and  make  her 

boast, 
Till  even  those  that  miss'd  her  most. 
Shall  count  new  things  as  dear  as  old : 

But  thou  and  I  have  shaken  hands. 
Till  growing  winters  lay  me  low  ; 
My  paths  are  in  the  flel'ds  I  know. 

And  thine  in  uudiscover'd  lauds. 

XLI. 

Thy  spirit  ere  our  fatal  Iobs 
Did  ever  rise  from  high  to  higher ; 
As  mounts  the  heavenward  altar 
fire, 

As  flies  the  lighter  thro*  the  gross. 

But  thou  art  turn'd  to    something 
strange. 
And  I  have  lo<^t  the  links  that  bound 
Thy  changes,  here  upon  the  ground, 

No  more  partalcer  of  thy  change. 

Deep  folly  !  yet  that  this  could  be  — 
That   I   could   wing   my  will  with 

might 
To  leap  the  grades  of  life  and  light. 

And  flash  ut  once,  my  friend,  to  thee  : 

For  tho*  my  nature  rarely  yields 
To  that  vague  fear  implied  in  death; 
Nor  shudders  at  the  gulfs  beneath, 

The  bowlings  from  forgotten  flelds  ; 

Yet  oft  when  sundown  skirts  the  moor 
An  inner  trouble  1  behold, 
A  spectral  doubt  which  makes  me 
cold. 

That  I  shall  be  thy  mate  no  more, 

Tho*  following  with  an  upward  mind 
The  wonders  that  have  come  to  thee, 
Thro'  all  the  secular  lo-be, 

But  evermore  a  life  behind. 

XLII 

I  TEX  my  heart  with  fancies  dim  : 
Ho  still  outstript  me  in  the  race  ; 
It  was  but  unity  of  place 

That  made  me  dream  1  rauk'd  with 
him. 

And  so  may  Place  retain  us  still. 
And  he  the  nmch-belove<l  again, 
A  lonl  of  large  experience,  train 

To  riper  growth  tlic  mind  and  will ; 


^ff* 


im'^  troiu   c 


IN  ME2I0RIAM. 

It  Bliudou'll  llT  UlO 

Lett  life  Bboiail  tall 


\T  Slaep  ana  Dealli  bs  truly  ono, 
*  ^d  QfBTT  BpirU'a  folded  bloom 
iro' all  ItBlnlBttiWl  gloom 


» 


A»  when  be  lovHd  i 

AiiilM  Uiespirillil 

Bevalieu  wltli  Uie  Ai 

Bowfarealt  with  tt 


vbencet 

A  lltUe  aaih,  a  mystic  hint : 

And  In  IbB  long  iarmorloua  years 
(1[  Dentil  BO  tMta  Letlioaii  Bpriiigs) 
Mayaoinedlio  touch oleartlilyHiliiE 

Surpriie  tlie  raiiglUE  with  tliy  peeri. 

II  Bnoh  a  draamy  touch  nhoulil  fall. 


il  high  plac 


id  tulUheoolt. 


The  taby  nt 

WhatlJine 

ABaliiBtth 

Hbi  uerer  Ihougbt  Uiat  >'  \ 
I   IlDt  u  ba  gmwB  hs  gatben 

AiiilleaniBl'- '"' 


the  f  TOme  that  blndB 


WbicholBewurefrultleBBoftbelcdua, 
,       Had  man  to  learn  btmBolt  a  new 
Befuud  the  aecoud  lilttb  of  Death 


nal  lanilBcape  of  the  past ; 
IK  tract  ol  time  rereal'd ; 


>t  Held, 
•r  Btrelchlng  liu- ; 


Ato'uii^i5' 

Ixiok  alBO,  Loi-e,  a  brooding 
A  rOBf  warmth  Irom  tatxie  to  niacga. 

That   each,   who  saems   a  aepanH 

Should  iaore  hla  rounds,  and  fiulti| 

The  sklita  ol  BelCagaln,  ehould  fall 

TUmeralng  in  the  general  Soul, 

Id  faltb  aB  lagua  as  al!  uiuweet : 

Eternal  form  shall  »llll  dirlda 

Tlie  oMrna)  auul  from  all  baldi 

And  I  Bball  know  Mia  wbeu  vrs  n 

And  we  Rball  dt  at  ondleaa  feait 

Enjoying  each  (ba  otber'a  good 

Of  LoTo  on  eactb  ?  He  leaka  at  leaat 
Upon  the  lait  and  ibirpeBl  height, 
fifltore  Ibo  aplrlla  fatTe  away, 

•'FuewelllWeloBeoiueelvesiullght?' 
If  theae  brief  lays,  of  Sairow  bonii 


liid  bence,  iudoed,  abe  spovls   will 
But  belter  aaryeB  awboleaoroo  Ian, 


Sbnrt  awallow-Olghta  uf  aoiig 
TLdr  wings  in  tears,  and  akim  away. 


Like  light  in  many  a  ■IdToc'd  ] 

Tliul  breaka  about  the  dappled  peals: 
IIielighteBtwaTeof  thoURhtaballllipi  I 

'I'liu  lancy'a  taudereiC  eddy  wreath^  J 


IN  MEMOMAM. 


117 


Thib  dlghtett  air  of  song  shall  breathe 
To  make  the  sulleu  surface  crisp. 

And  look  thy  look,  and  go  thy  way, 
But  blame  not  thou  the  winds  that 

make 
The  seemlng-waiitou  ripple  break, 

The  teuder-peucil'd  shadow  play. 

Beneath  all  fancied  hopes  and  fears 
Ay  me,  the  sorrow  deepens  down, 
Whose  muffled  motions  blindly  drown 

The  baties  of  my  life  in  tears. 


L. 


the 


Be  near  mo  when  my  light  is  low, 
When  the  blood  creeps,   and 

nerves  prick 
And  tingle ;  and  the  heart  is  sick, 

And  all  the  wheeU  of  Being  slow. 

Be  near  me  when  the  sensuous  frame 
Is  rack'd  with  pangs  that  conquer 

trust; 
And  Time,  a  maniac  scattering  dust, 

And  Life,  a  Fury  slinging  Hame. 

Be  near  me  when  my  faith  Is  dry. 
And  men  the  flies  of  latter  spring. 
That  lay  their  eggs,  and  stiug  and 
sing. 

And  weave  their  petty  cells  and  die. 

Be  near  me  when  I  fade  away, 
To  point  the  term  of  human  strife, 
And  on  the  low  dark  verge  of  life 

The  twilight  of  eternal  day. 

LI. 

Do  we  Indeed  desire  the  dead 
Should  still  be  near  us  at  our  side  ? 
Is  there  no  baseness  we  would  hide  ? 

No  inner  vileness  that  we  dread? 

Shall  he  for  whose  applause  I  strove, 
I  had  such  reverence  for  his  blame. 
See  with  clear  eye  some  hidden  shame 

And  I  be  lessen'd  in  his  love  ? 

I  wronff  the  grave  with  fears  untrue : 
Shall  love  be  blamed  for  want  of 

faith? 
There  must  be  wisdom  with  groat 
Death: 
The  dead  shall  look  me  thro*  and  thro.* 

Be  near  us  when  we  climb  or  fall : 
Ye  watch,  like  God,  the  rolling  hours 
With  larger  other  eyes  than  ours, 

To  make  allowance  for  us  all. 

LII. 

I CAXXOT  love  thee  as  I  ought. 

For  love  reflects  the  things  beloved  ; 

My  words  are  ouly  words,  and  moved 
Upon  the  topmost  froth  of  thought. 

*Yet  blame  not   thou   thy  plaintive 
song,*' 
The  spirit  of  true  love  replied ; 
**11iou  canst  not  move  me  from  thy 
side. 
Nor  human  frailty  do  me  wrong. 

V  What  keeps  a  spirit  wholly  true  j 

To  that  ideal  which  he  bears  ?  1 


What  record  ?  not  the  sinless  years 
That  breathes  beneath  the  Syrian  blue: 

«<  So  fret  not,  like  an  idle  girl. 
That  life  is  dash*d  with  flecks  of  ein. 
Abide :  thy  wealth  is  gather'd  in. 

When  Time  hath  suuder'd  shell  trom 
pearl." 

Lni. 

How  many  a  father  have  I  seen, 
A  sober  man,  among  his  boys. 
Whose  youth  was  full  of  foolish  noise. 

Who  weai-s  his  manhood  hale  and  gieen  t 

And  dare  we  to  this  fancy  give. 
That  had  the  wild  oat  not  been  sown. 
The  soil,   left   barren,  scarce   had 
grown 

The  grain  by  which  a  man  may  live? 

Oh.  if  we  held  the  doctrine  sound 
For  life  outliving  heats  of  youth. 
Yet  who  would  preach  it  as  a  truth 

To  those  that  eddy  i-ound  and  round  '/ 

Hold  thou  thy  good :  deflne  it  well : 

For  fear  divine  Philosophy 

Should  push  beyond  her  mark,  and 
be 
Procuress  to  the  Lords  of  Hell. 

LIV. 

Oh  vet  we  trust  that  somehow  good 
Will  be  the  flnal  goal  of  ill, 
To  pangs  of  nature,  sins  of  will. 

Defects  of  doubt,  and  taints  of  blood ; 

That  nothing  walks  with  aimless  feet ; 
That  no  one  life  shall  be  destroy'd, 
Or  cost  as  rubbish  to  the  void. 

When  God  hath  made  the  pile  com- 
plete; 

That  not  a  worm  is  cloven  in  vain  ; 
That  not  a  moth  with  vain  desire 
Is  shriverd  in  a  fruitless  tiro. 

Or  but  subserves  another's  gain. 

Behold,  we  know  not  anything ; 
I  can  but  trust  that  good  shall  fall 
At  last— far  off— at  last,  to  all. 

And  every  winter  ehange  to  spring. 

So  runs  my  dream :  but  what  am  I  ? 
An  infant  crying  in  the  night : 
An  infant  crying  for  the  light : 

And  with  no  language  but  a  cry. 

LV. 

The  wish,  that  of  the  living  whole 
No  life  may  fail  beyond  the  crave. 
Derives  it  not  from  what  we  nave 

The  likest  God  within  the  soul? 

Are  God  and  Nature  then  at  strife. 
That  Nature  lends  such  evil  dreams  ? 
So  careful  of  the  type  she  seems. 

So  careless  of  the  single  life ; 

That  I,  considering  everywhere 
Her  secret  meaning  in  her  deeds. 
And  finding  that  of  fifty  seeds 

She  often  brings  but  one  to  bear, 

I  falter  where  I  firmly  trod. 
And  falling  with  my  weight  of  caroa 


I^^MH* 


/.V  MEMOni.lM. 


Upon  Uio  m»t  wtrlil'*  alMr-FUlr> 
Tli«  ilope  lEi-o'  Uiirkuaia  up  lo  Gqil, 
I  Etretch   luss  liaDila  of  (olUi.   auil 

Ami  oBlber  'Hull  and  chB<T.  and  l^all 
Ta  wEnt  1  fwL  is  Loi>t  of  nil. 
Auil  faintly  trust  ilie  lai£cr  liupe, 

'■  SO  ureTnl  of  the  type  ?  "  but  no. 
Fmm   »<:ari>(Hl  clia   aiul    quonied 

I  aire  fur  notblQE,  all  iliall  go. 

"Thon  malieatlhino  appeal  to  ma  i 
1  Ixinv  lo  life.  I  bring  to  ilesUi  : 
Tlie  B|ilrit  ilD«B  but  nieRii  ibo  brsKtli : 

Iknowiiomoro."    AU<1  he,  ■lialllie, 

Mul,  lier  lut  work,  wbo  aeem'd  ao 


Or  Kal'il  wiiUu  tliu  IruiiliUlH  ? 
Komore?  A  monater  then,  adreain, 

A  discord.    DrBEQiiB  of  tlio  prime. 

TliBl  loflr  earli  olhBr  in  iLeir  Blima. 
'Wei'O  uelluw  miiaic  mutdi'd  wIUi  liini. 
O  life  ai  Id  tlie.  tben.  sa  [mill 

O  tor  tliy  voi™  to  boi.lIiu  uiut  bless  ! 

ViiBtlmpootaniwer.  ni 


BebludtlJ 


1,  beliliiil 


itiil. 


Aug  so  nllLUf  :  let  la  eo, 
CDme  let  m  e° '  tout  i^licelci'  nn  pule 

UatMuka  iiiy  Irleuil  Is  ricLly  Ebrlti 
BDtl  sbBlI  pau,  my  work  will  tnil. 
Yet  in  U>«e  ears,  till  liearliig  dies. 

one  set  Blow  ball  »ltl  Beeiii  U>  fill 

Tliat'^e?^loolc"d  wUhTium"!  "m. 

1  lienr  It  now.  ami  u'or  atnl  o'er, 

Elernel  grastlngs  lo  tli^o  deiul, 

"  Adieu,  adtBu,"  for  DTemioio! 


Ih  tliose  (ad  words  I  took  fi 


vbII  : 


As  drop  by  drop  Ilia  walar  talli 
In  vaulta  uid  catofouklH,  tJjey  leU ; 
;.  Idly  broke  the  peace 

-    .mdaylodtv 


Idly  broke 


r_.  tUyharBbac  niouda  aside, 

II  tliDu  win  IisTD  mo  wlso  uud  good. 
Aly  centred  pa»lon  cannot  move, 

Kor  will  It  tesBen  (roni  In-day  ; 

But  I'll  baTe  leave  at  LimoHto  pU) 


Could   liudly  lell   wliac  iianiu 
IhiiiB. 

lily  iiplrit  luvad  and  loves  him'yefc 
LiKu  iome  iioor  elrl  wbuae  Ueait  IM 


bewIr^Blh?! 


la  that   dark  bouse  where  a 

TliB  foolish  nalehbora  eonie  anu  ,.. 
And  tefwebei  till  the  day  diitsra  by : 
At  nlgki  alie  weeps,  "  How  v' 

Itow  should  be  love  a  thing  so  hjwf" 

If.  In  thy  second  state  sublime, 
Thy  nuisom'd  rM»ou  ehause  repllWH 
With  nil  tlie  clrolo  ol  the  vHie,  " 

The  pciteet  Uower  of  human  lime; 

•il  and  allellt, 
lli  of  eoMai 


How  Jluil 
Ilnw  dwai 

Plglit, 
low  blnnel 


It  Eoi'iu  was  made  a 


I  loved  ihee,  Spirit 
can 
The  soul  of   Shakespeare 
more. 

LXII. 


IN  MEMOniAM. 
and  love,  nor 

loTO  thee 


Tho*  if  an  eye  that's  downward  cast 
Could  make  thee  somewhat  blench 

or  fail, 
Then  be  my  love  an  idle  tale, 

And  fading  legend  of  the  past ; 

And  thou,  as  one  that  once  declined, 
When  he  was  little  more  than  boy, 
On  some  unworthy  heart  with  joy, 

But  lives  to  wed  an  equal  mind  ; 

And  breathes  a. novel  world,  the  while 
His  other  passion  wholly  dies, 
Or  in  the  light  of  deeper  eyes 

l8  matter  for  a  Hying  smile. 

LXIII. 

Yet  pity  for  a  horse  o*er-driven, . 

And  love  in  which  my  hound  has 
part, 

Can  hang  no  weight  upon  my  heart 
In  its  assumptions  up  to  heaven  ; 

And  I  am  so  much  more  than  these, 
As  thou,  perchance  art  more  than  I, 
And  yet  I  spare  them  svmpathy 

And  I  would  set  their  pains  at  ease. 

So  may*8t  thou  watch    me  where  I 
weep, 

As,  unto  vaster  motions  bound. 

The  circuits  of  thine  orbit  round 
A  higher  height,  a  deeper  deep. 


LXIV. 

look  back 


on  what  hath 


Dost  thou 
been. 

As  some  divinely  gifted  man, 
Whose  life  in  low  estate  began 

And  on  a  simple  village  green  ; 

Who  breaks  his  birth*a  invidious  bar. 
And   grasps   the   skirts   of    happy 

chance. 
And  breasts  the  blows  of   circum- 
stance. 
And  grapples  with  his  evil  star ; 

Who  makes  by  force  his  merit  known 
And  lives  to  clutch  the  golden  keys. 
To  mould  a  michty  state's  decrees. 

And  shape  the  whisper  of  Uie  throne  ; 

And  moving  up  from  high  to  higher, 
Becomes    on    Fortune's    crowning 

slope 
The  pillar  of  a  people's  hope, 

The  centre  of  a  world's  desire ; 

Yet  feels,  as  in  a  pensive  dream, 
When  all  his  actite  powers  are  still, 
A  distant  dearness  in  the  hill, 

A  secret  sweetness  in  the  stream, 

The  limit  of  his  narrower  fate. 
While  yet  beside  its  vocal  springs 
He  play'd  at  counsellors  and  kings. 

With  one  that  was  his  earliest  mate  ; 

Who  plougna  with  pain  liin  native  lea 
Ana  rea|i0  the  1at)or  of  his  liHiuis, 


119 

Or  in  the  furrow  musing  stands  : 
"  Does  my  old  friend  remember  me  ?  " 


LXV. 

Sweet  soul,  do  with  me  as  thou  wilt  •, 

I  lull  a  fancy  trouble-tost 

With   *•  Love's  too    precious  to  be 
lost, 
A  little  grain  shall  not  be  spilt." 

And  in  that  solace  can  I  sing, 
Till  out  of  painful  phases  wrought 
There  flutters  up  a  nappy  thought. 

Self-balanced  on  a  lightsome  wing  : 

Since  we  deserved  the  name  of  friends, 
And  thine  effect  so  lives  in  me, 
A  part  of  mine  may  live  in  thee 

And  move  thee  on  to  noble  ends. 


Lxvr. 
my  heart  too 


far  dis- 


Yor  thought 
eased : 

You  wonder  when  my  fancies  play 
To  find  me  gay  among  the  gay, 

Like  one  with  any  trifle  pleased. 

The  shade  by  which  my  life  was  crost 
Which  makes  a  desert  in  the  mind. 
Has  made  me  kindly  with  my  kind, 

And  like  to  him  whose  sight  is  lost ; 

Whose  feet  are  guided  thro'  the  land. 
Whose  jest  among  his  friends  is  free 
Who  takes  the  children  on  his  kn«e. 

And  winds  their  curls  about  his  hand: 

He  plays  with  threads,  he  beats  his 
chair 

For  pastime,  dreaming  of  the  sky  ; 

His  inner  day  can  never  die. 
His  night  of  loss  is  always  there. 

LXVII. 

Whex  on  my  bed  the  moonlight  falls, 
I  know  that  in  thy  place  of  rest. 
By  that  broad  water  of  the  west. 

There  comes  a  glory  on  the  walls  : 

Thy  marble  bright  in  dark  appears, 
As  slowly  steals  a  silver  flame 
Along  the  lettei-s  of  thy  name, 

And  o'er  the  number  of  thy  years. 

The  mystic  glory  swims  away  : 
From  oflE  my  bed  the  moonlight  dies ; 
And  closing  eaves  of  wearied  eyes 

I  sleep  till  dusk  is  dipt  in  gray  : 

And  then  I  know  the  mist  is  drawn 
A  lucid  veil  from  coast  to  coast. 
And  in  the  <lark  church  like  a  ghost 

Thy  tablet  glimmers  to  the  dawn. 

Lxviir. 

Wren  in  the  down  T  sink  my  head, 
Sleep,   Death's  twin-brother,  times 

my  breath  ; 
Sleep,  Death's  twin-brother,  knows 
not  Death, 
Nor  can  I  dream  of  thee  as  dead  : 

I  walk  as  ere  I  walk'd  forlorn. 
When  all  our  path  was  fresh  with 
dew, 


ri 


And  an  Uio  bualo  broeifl*  blew 

Serellluc  to  Uie  [jrijaJcliig  moru. 

Bat  wluit  is  tliii  ?    Iturniboat, 

1  and  a  imuula  in  tliliie  bjb, 

WblL'li  lua.un  luu  sail  1  know  uat 

JTiiT  GUI  my  dreau)  leiolve  Uio  iloubC ' 
Butere  the  iHrk  hathlett  Ibe  leu 

Tbal  i ooli^  ajei^p  traiLsIerd  to  tliQo. 

I  UBF.AU'D  UierB  would  bo  Spiins  no 

Tlist  Nfttura'a   anciuiil   poiror  woi 

lost: 
rbsiticeta  were  blactt  ivli^  smoke 
and  troat. 
Thay  iJiattei'il  triQcs  at  tlic  door 
I  wandor'd  (torn  Ibo  110I117  lown, 
]  foinidawooil  wltli  tliurny  buughs  : 


bain: 

ThBJ  raird  mo  In  tbo  pnblla  ngnnrea 

Tha  (ool  Ibat  wean  a  trown  of  tlmrna; 

TboT  eall-d  ma  tool,  t'jey  call'd  mo 

cbild : 

I  found  Bii  angel  of  Oia  nigbt 

The   Toita    wr  ■   '—     ■'■■  '"- 

lie  loot'd  upon 
lie  reachM  Uie  glory  of  a  baud, 
;riiat  aaam-rt  lotoarb  It  Into  leaf  -. 


In   wMoh    VI 

France. 
Hadat  tlion  auob  credit  wiih  the  aonl  f 

■ITienbiiiig  an  oplalBtiablyairo! 

l)iug  down  tliB  bliudlolil  aouj 

TbBt  »o  my  plansura  may  be  wholi 
'WbUe  now  we  Ulk  bb  otirs  ve  taL. ,. 
Uf   men    and   ntUida,    tlie   duic   ol 


t 


irlglit. 


And  crowds  tbat «traam  from  yawning 

And  ahoBls  of  puclier'il  faces  driTB 
fJarH  bums  that  lumble  halt  alive, 

Till  all  at  onoa  beyond  the  will 
Fliard  music  roll, 

Louks  thy  fair  face  and  makes  llsUtt. 

Err.  kinsman  tliou  to  death    nni 

Lnd  inadness.  thou  hast  (orccil  o 
last 
/j/j-hWon^rrcBcnto:  fbo  Fas; 


The   days  that  c^o 


itlhlist. 

In  walliliie'ttsofoldwo  wolli'd 
Beside  tbo  Tlver's  wooded  reaeli, 
Tba  fortrMS.  and  tbe  mountain  ridMi 
Tbo  cataract  flashing  troin  the  brldKO. 
Tbe  brealier  breaklui;  uu  the  beach. 

HiSEST  ibon  thus,  dim  dawn,  ngidn, 
Andliowlosl.lsaulnuoutof  iflght,    ' 
Wllb  blasts  tbat  blow    Ibn    IMiiilst 
wblle, 
I  1—1.  —i.i.  ...„.   .,._   -■i^muiuj 


lash  with  I 
pane  ? 
Dw  whan  my  arc 
Toplueln  tbat 


nsbsrest  In  the  dc 
■Jh  thy  quick  tean 


hcgon 

iveryliriiig  bloom, 
lendarcfiliesuu) 


Vp  tbe  deep  C-ist,  01 

A  rbegner-WDili  r>r  ben 
\loug  tbe  MllB,  yet  loak' 


Lift  as  thou    I 


°'^J*'™g"l'' 


5o  many  worlds,  aomnch  to  do. 
So  Utile  done,  sach  tilings  to  be. 
How  know  I  what  had  need  of  He.. 

For  tbon  werl  Blroiig  oa    lh*u  wnit, 

rtae  fame  la  gaench'd  tbntlfom 
The  liead  balli   uilsa'd   an  n 


ly  MEMoniA^r. 


121 


I  curse  not  nature,  no,  nor  death  ; 
For  nothing  is  that  errs  from  law. 

We  pass  :  the  path  that  each  man  trod 
Is  dim.  or  will  be  dim,  with  weeds  : 
What  fame  is  left  for  human  deeds 

In  endless  age  ?    It  rests  with  Ood. 

0  hollow  wraith  of  dying  fame, 
Fade  wholly,  while  the  soul  exults, 
And  self -infolds  the  large  results 

Of  force  that  would  have  forged  a  uomc. 

LXXIT. 

As  sometimes  in  a  dead  man's  face. 
To  those  tbat  watch  it  more  and  moro, 
A  likeness,  hardly  seen  before, 

Ck>me8oat— to  some  ouo  of  hnn  raco  : 

So  dearest,  now  thy  brows  are  cold. 
I  see  thee  what  thou  art,  and  know 
Thv  likeness  to  the  wise  below. 

Thy  kindred  with  the  great  of  old. 

But  there  is  more  than  I  can  see, 
And  what  I  see  I  leave  unsaid,         , 
Nor  speak  it,   knowing  Death  has 
made 

His  darkness  beautiful  with  thco. 

LXXV. 

1  LEAVE  thy  praises  unexpress'd 
In  verse  that  brings  myself  relief, 
And  by  the  measure  of  my  grief 

I  leave  thy  greatness  to  be  guess'd  ; 

"What  practice  howsoe'er  expert 
lu  fitting  aptest  words  to  things. 
Or  voice  the  richest-toned  that  sings, 

Ilath  power  to  give  thee  as  thou  wert  ? 

I  care  not  in  these  fading  days 
To  raise  a  cry  that  lasts  not  long, 
And  round  thee  with  the  breeze  of 
song 

To  stir  a  little  dust  of  praise. 

Thy  leaf  has  perish'd  in  the  green. 
And,  while  we  breathe  beneath  the 

sun. 
The  world  which  credits  what  is  done 

Ts  cold  to  all  that  might  have  been. 

So  here  shall  silence  guard  thy  fame  ; 
But  somewhere,  out  of  human  view, 
\yhate*er  thy  hands  are  set  to  do 

Is  wrought  with  tumult  of  acclaim. 

LXXVI. 

Take  wings  of  fancy,  and  ascend. 
And  in  a  moment  set  thy  face 
Where   all   the  staiTy  heavens   of 
space 

Are  sharpened  to  a  needle's  end  ; 

Take  wings  of  foresight ;  lighten  thro' 
The  secular  abyss  to  come, 
And  lo,  thy  deepest  lays  are  dumb 

Before  the  mouldering  of  a  yew  ; 

And  if  the  matin  songs,  that  woke 
The  darkness  of  our  planet,  last. 
Thine  own  shall  wither  in  the  vast, 

Kre  half  the  lifetime  of  an  oak. 


Ere  these  havo  clothed  their  branchy 
bowers 
With  fifty  Mays,  thy  songs  are  vain; 
And   what   are    they  when  these 
remain 
The  ruiu'd  shells  of  hollow  towers  ? 

WnAT  hopo  is  hero  for  modem  rhymo 
To  him,  who  turns  a  musing  eye 
On  songs,  and  deeds,  and  lives,  that 
lie 

Forcshorten'd  in  the  tract  of  time  ? 

These  mortal  lullabies  of  pain 
ISIay  bind  a  book,  may  line  a  box. 
May  serve  to  curl  a  maiden's  locks ; 

Or  when  a  thousand  moons  shall  wano 

A  man  upon  a  stall  may  find. 
And  passing,  turn  the  page  that  tells 
A  grief,  then  changed  to  something 
else. 

Sung  by  a  long- forgotten  mind. 

But  what  of  that  ?  My  darken'd  ways 
Shall  rln^  with  music  all  the  same  : 
To  breathe  my  loss  is   moro  than 
fame. 

To  utter  love  more  sweet  than  praise. 

LXXVIII. 

AoAix  at  Christmas  did  wo  weave 
The    holly    round    the    Christmas 

hearth ; 
The  silent  snow  possess'd  the  earth, 

And  calmly  fell  our  Christmas-eve : 

The  yule-clocf  sparkled  keen  with  frost, 
No  wing  of  wind  the  region  swept. 
But  over  all  things  bro<xllng  slept 

The  quiet  sense  of  something  lost. 

As  in  the  winters  left  behind. 
Again  our  ancient  games  had  place. 
The  mimic  f)icturc'8  breathing  jrraco. 

And  dance  and  song   and  hoodman- 
blind. 

Who  show'd  a  token  of  distress  ? 
No  single  tear,  no  mark  of  pain  : 

0  sorrow,  then  can  sorrow  wane  ? 

O  grief,  can  grief  be  changed  to  less  ? 

O  last  rejrret,  regret  can  die ! 
No — mixt  with  all  this  mystic  frame, 
Her  deep  relations  are  the  same, 

But  with  long  use  her  tears  are  dry. 

LXXIX. 

"  More  than  my  brothers  are  to  me  " — 
Let  this  not  vex  thee,  noble  heart ! 

1  know  thee  of  what  force  thou  art 
To  hold  the  costliest  love  in  fee. 

But  thou  and  I  are  one  In  kind, 
As  moulded  like  in  nature's  mint , 
And  hill  and  wood  and  field  did  print 

llic  same  sweet  forms  in  either  mind. 

For  us  the  same  cold  streamlet  curl'd 
Thro*   all  his  eddying   coves ;    the 

same 
All  \rinds  that  roam  the  twilight 
came 
In  whispers  of  the  beauteous  world. 


^ 


La  liu  uollkeuuu 


wire  rfioiiW  lite. 


— .hoWDeWliBreArlliut  dleit 
Had  moved  me  kliiill)'  from  hi"  iWc, 
Inrt  dtopi  the  duBC  on  temilees  eyea  j 
riiBn  fniKT  stmprt,  Mfmey  ean, 
Tlia    ETief    my    loss    In    Win  liad 

A  gHe^iM  deep  ns  life  or  thnnjilit. 
Bot  itaj't]  In  paaoewilh  GoJ  ana  ni«n. 
-       ■  re  In  the  brain; 

-      ■■B.peaka; 


Hetx 


inlen  ot  ths  i 


it  tuma  hifl  bunleii  i 


■■Mj  lore  abnll  now  111 
Tliare    cannot    oomi 
clianEs, 

Iiora.  Iban,  had  hope  o( 


"  My  sudden  frost  vfas  i 

Anil  (cavo  all  ripeness  t 

It  might  have  drawn  lion 


«indn. 


^ 


a  moTlne  on. 


stalk  a. 
Or  tuln'd  chrjaalla  of  one. 
Kor  lilaina  T  Death,  twi-anBn  lie  bare 

1  knov  iranoplBntod  liumnii  wocth 
ViW  bloom  to  prom,  atliarnliere. 
For  this  alone  on  Pealli  I  wreak 

~lie  wrnlh  that  (^niort  in  my  heart ; 
«  pnt  nnr  Urea  en  far  apart 


IWflwIlh  Apiilil 


Thy  BweBlniBH  from  iti 
Canttf'-'-"-"-"'' 

Brina  rrclila.  bring  tho  rcwaloTe  iplro, 
Q'be  little  BpeedweJt'H  <lar11ng  blue, 
I>efP  lulipB  ilaaliM  nltb  Berj  dew, 

I^bwuuniB,  dropping'Wella  of  £ie. 

O  then,  new-vear,  ilelayfng  lonct 
UelByB'it  Ihe  sorrow  In  my  blood, 
That  long,  to  biiml  a  frozen  bud. 

And  llou!  a  f reaber  throat  wlUt  oonj; 

TVefs  I  contemplate  all  alona 
The  liTe  that  hod  been  Lhiae  belov, 
And  fix  in^  Ibougbti  on  all  the  b1<>«' 


- --nyll 

To  whleh  thj 


the  Bin* 
lid  Lava 

T  Bee  tbeo  rtltlng  erown"d  with  comL 

A  ceutTfll  warmth  dlHueinE  bTlsa 

In  Blaneu  aud  aiiille,  and  claapanil 

On  oil  the  hroncheB  of  ihyWoort; 
Thyblood,  my  frleml.  and  partly  mine 

>'or  now  Uie  Aay  was  dmwliiH  on. 

When  thou  shuuld'at  llidn   thy  lib 

Made  evnreaa  of  tier  orange  flower,  <  t 
Deapairof  Hope,  and  eanhol  UiM. 


I  Bco  their  tinhnm  races  ablaa 
lieelde  the  never-llghteil  Qie. 
1  flee  m^'Bclf  an  hononr'd  ^eaC, 

Thy  partner  In  the  flowcn'  walk 

or  letlen.genUl  table-talk, 
Or  deepdlapnte,  and  giacefal  jeat ; 
"While  now  thy  pioanoroua  labor  nils 

Thellpsofnienwithbc        "        ■ 


I 


1 


irm 


■«« 


IN  MEMORIAM, 


12.0 


Arrive  at  lasfc  the  blessed  seal, 
Aiid  Ue  that  died  in  Holy  Land 
Would  reach  us  out  the  sbiuiug  liandi 

And  take  us  as  a  single  soul. 

What  reed  was  that  on  which  I  leant  ? 
A  backward  fancy,  wherefore  wake 
The  old  bitterness  again,  and  break 

The  low  beginnings  of  content. 

LXXXV. 

Tnis  truth  came  borne  with  bier  and 

I  £lt  it,  when  I  sorrow*d  most. 
'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost, 
That  never  to  have  loved  at  all— 

O  true  in  word,  and  tried  in  deed, 
I>emandinff,  so  to  bring  relief 
To  this  which  is  our  common  grief, 

What  kind  of  life  is  that  1  lead ; 

And  whether  trust  in  things  above 
Be  dimm*d  of  sorrow,  or  sustftlh'd ; 
And  whether  love   for  him  have 
drain'd 

Hy  capabilities  of  love  ; 

Your  words  have  virtue  such  as  draws 
A  faithful  answer  from  the  breast. 
Thro*  light  reproaches,  half  exprest, 

And  loyal  unto  Kindly  laws. 

Xy  blood  an  even  tenor  kept. 
Till  on  mine  ear  this  message  falls, 
That  in  Vienna's  fatal  walls 

€h)d's  finger  touched  him,  and  he  slept. 

The  great  Intelligences  fair 
That  range  above  our  mortal  state, 
Tn  circle  round  the  blessed  gate, 

Beoeived  and  gave  him  welcome  tiiere  ; 

And  led  him  thro*  the  blissful  climes, 
And  show'd  him  in  the  fount£un 

fresh 
All  knowledge  that  the  sons  of  flesh 

Shall  gather  in  the  cycled  times. 

But  I  remi^n*d  whose  hopes  were  dim, 
Whose  life,  whose  thoughts  were 

little  worth. 
To  wander  on  a  darken*d  earth, 
Where  all  things  round  me  breathed 
of  him. 

O  friendship,  equal-poised  control. 
O  heart,  with  kindliest  motion  warm, 

0  sacred  essence,  other  form. 
O  solemn  ghost,  O  crowned  soul  I 

Yet  none  could  better  know  than  I. 
How  much  of  act  at  human  hands 
The  sense  of  human  will  demands 

By  which  we  dare  to  live  or  die. 

Whatever  way  my  days  decline, 

1  felt  and  feel,  tho*  left  alone, 
His  being  working  in  mine  own. 

The  footsteps  of  his  life  in  mine ; 

A  life  that  all  the  Muses  deck'd 
With  gifts  of  grace,  that  might  ex- 

presa 
All  comprehensive  tenderness, 

All-subtilmng  intellect : 

And  so  my  passion  hath  not  swerved 
To  works  of  weakness,  but  I  hnd 


An  image  comforting  the  mind, 
Aiid  in  my  grief  a  strength  reserved. 

Likewise  the  imaginative  woe. 
That  loved  to  handle  spiritual  strife, 
Diffused  the  shock  thro'  all  my  life. 

But  in  the  present  broke  the  blow. 

My  pulses  therefore  beat  again 
For  other  friends  that  once  I  met ; 
T^oT  can  it  8uit  me  to  forget 

The  mighty  hopes  that  make  us  men. 

I  woo  your  love  :  X  count  it  orimo 
To  niouni  for  any  overmtich  ; 
I,  the  divided  half  of  such 

A  friendship  as  had  master'd  Time  ; 

Which  masters  Time  indeed,  and  is 
Eternal,  separate  from  fears : 
The  all-assuming  months  and  years 

Can  take  no  part  away  from  this : 

But  Summer  on  the  steaming  flood(«. 

And  Spring  that  swells  the  narrow 
brooks. 

And  Autumn,  with  a  noise  of  rooks. 
That  gather  in  the  waning  woods. 

And  every  pulse  of  wind  and  wave 
Kecalls,  in  change  of  light  or  gloom, 
My  old  affection  of  the  tomb, 

And  my  prime  passion  in  the  grave  : 

My  old  aifection  of  the  tomb, 
A  part  of  stillness,  yearns  to  speak  : 
**  Arise,  and  get  thee  forth  ana  seek 

A  friendship  for  the  years  to  ceme. 

I  watch  thee  from  the  quiet  shore : 
Thy  spirit  up  to  mine  can  reach  ; 
But  in  dear  words  of  human  speech 

We  two  communicate  no  more.'^ 

And  I,  **  Can  clouds  of  nature  stain 
The  starry  clearness  of  the  free  ? 
How  is  it  ?  Canst  thou  feel  for  mo 

Some  painless  sympathy  with  pain  ?  " 

And  lightly  does  the  whisper  fall ; 

*Ti8  hard  for  thee  to  fathom  this ; 

I  triumph  in  conclusive  bliss. 
And  that  serene  result  of  all.'* 

So  hold  I  commerce  with  the  dead ; 

Or  so  methinks  the  dead  would  eay ; 

Or  so  shall  crief  with  symbols  play, 
And  pining  life  be  fancy-fed. 

Now  looking  to  some  settled  end. 
That  these  things  pass,  and  1  shall 

prove 
A  meeting  somewhere,   love   with 
love, 
I  crave  your  pardon,  O  my  friend ; 

If  not  so  fresh,  with  love  ns  true. 
I,  clasping  brother-hands,  aver 
I  could  not,  if  I  would,  transfer 

The  whole  I  felt  for  him  to  you. 

Fbr  which  be  they  that  hold  apart 
The  promise  of  the  golden  hours  ? 
I^lrst  love,   first  friendship,    equal 
powers, 

That  marry  with  the  virgin  heart. 

Still  mine,  that  cannot  but  deplore^ 
That  beats  within.  aloueV^  '^\Qkc^«, 


That  jet  remcmlie™  lili  embrarc, 
But  at  mi  fooulep  leo-pft  no  more, 
Ky  heart,  tbo'  wido'r'd,  may  not  reat 

uoltaliitlie  loTsof  vhMUgoue, 

But  Bceki  to  tKit  in  time  with  one 
Ttwl  irumB  auolhei  living  nraul. 
Ah,  Uki  ths  Imperfent  gift  I  bring, 

KDOWlag  the  prlmroee  yet  iB  doar, 

A*  uat  uulllie  lo  that  of  Spring. 

EwEEr  iifl*r  iliowen.  ambroalsl  rii. 
That    rallaiC    Itom     tba    Eotgeooa 

o/'eTsnlng  over  tirake  and  bloom 
AjiJ  msailo*',  slowly  breathiug  t«i™ 
The  round  of  apiui,  and  rapt  beloi 

ITiro'  all  the  dewj-lMMird  Horn 

And  ihadowlng  <J 


mybro' 


id  blov 


and  Leaih. 
m  brelhreu,  let  Ih( 
From  belt  lo  belt  ol 
Onlsaguea  of  ode 

A  huudnil  aplrlii  i 


IT  TiCa   that  Ie«£  t 


^botoiainoretbcgowii 
tha  tumult  of  Ibe  halls  ; 
■aoncemoraln^llcBPfj! 
Dim   their  higb-huUt  ur. 


Tbo  roeaantecl  pulse  ol 

AmonKthewillo«'B;i>n 

And  luauy  a  bridge,  anil 

i,  but  1 

tFp  that  loni  walk  o(  llmss  I  past 
To  eee  Iho  rooms  In  wblch  ho  Jwelt. 
Another  name  wbi  on  Ibe  iloor : 
1  llngBr'd  ;  all  ivltliin  waa  imtao 
Ol  Bong,  and   cJajiping  hsiidn,   and 

That  crash'd  the  elars  and  beat  (lis 

Where  once  we  hohl  debate,  a  hand 
or  youthful  frieiidB,  on  niiud  and 

And  labor,  sud  iho  ohancrtnE  mart, 
And  all  Ibe  Iramawork  of  the  land ; 
When  one  would  aim  an  arrow  talr. 

But  sand  It  alackl]'  from  the  atriuc  ; 


And  laBi  Ibe  msater-botrni 
TTs  lent  him.    Who,  bnt  bong  mI 


The  Gad  wltbin  blm  light  hit  faco- 
AnclBsfmlolirtlhe  form,  and  glow 

Inaiure  orblia  beavenlr-wlae ; 

And  Dier  those  eUiereal  eyea 
The  bar  of  Michael  Angelo* 

Wn-n  bird,  whoae  warble,  Uquld  a«M(, 
niiiEB  Eden  thro'  ths  badded  qulcka, 
O  tell  me  where  the  aenaei -■- 

O  tell  me  whete  the  paialoui 


>y  spirits  In  the  r: 
Thy  paeBlon  clasps  a 


WrrcH-CiMiia  that  counterchange  tha 

Of   IbiB  flat  Sawn  with  dusk   and 
bright ; 

And  Tbou,  with  nU  Ihy  brcadtli  anJ 
hslght 
Of  folluge,  towering  aycamore ; 
now  often,  bitber  wanderinidown. 

My  Artliur  found  your  ahadowa  fdn 

And  shook  to  all  the  liberal  air 
Tbe  dUBt  and  din  and  steam  of  town  : 
Ho  brought  an  eye  for  all  be  saw; 


i 

I 

i 


And  dusty  purlieus  of  tb 
OJoytohimln  thlBtetr 


To  drink  the  n 


iSark, 


Tbo  landacape  winking  tbio'  the  t 
tinnnd  t^  rout  tbe  brood  of  care- 
Tlio  sweep  of  sfylheln  morning 
The  gnat  tliat  round  tbe  garden...-, 
nd    tumbled    halt    the    mellowing 

bllBB,  when  all  In  circle  drawn 
"■  ■"' ' '  a,  heart  and  oar  were  fed 


Tohearhlm,  aabal 


Tbe^ 


ly  MEMORIAL. 


125 


Or  here  she  brought  tho  harp  and 
flung 
A  baUad  to  the  brightening  moon : 

Kor  lees  it  pleased  in  livelier  moods, 
Beyond  the  bounding  hill  to  stray, 
And  break  the  livelong  summer  day 

With  banquet  in  the  distant  woods ; 

Whereat  wo  glanced  from  thcmo  to 
theme, 
Discuss'd  the  booics  to  love  or  hato, 
Or  touch'd  the  changes  of  the  state, 

Or  threaded  some  Socratic  dream ; 

But  if  I  praised  the  busy  town. 
He  loved  to  rail  against  it  still, 
For  **  ground  in  yonder  social  mill 

We  mb  each  others  angles  down, 

**And  merge"  he  said,  '<iu  form  and 
gloss 
The  pictnresqne  of  man  and  man.** 
Wetalk*d:  tne  stream  beneath  ns 
ran, 
The  wine-flask  lying  couch'd  in  moss, 

Or  coord  within  the  glooming  wave  ; 
And  last,  returning  from  uar, 
Before  the  crimson-circled  star 

Bad  fairn  into  her  father's  grave. 

And  bmshing  ankle-deep  in  flowers. 
We  heard  behind  the  woodbine  veil 
Hie  milk  that  bubbled  in  the  pail. 

And  buzzings  of  the  honied  hours. 

xc. 

IlR  tasted  love  with  half  his  mind. 
Nor  ever  drank  the  inviolate  spring 
Where    nighest  heaven,  who    flrst 
could  fling 

This  bitter  seed  among  mankind  ; 

That  could  the  dead,  whose  dying  eyes 
Were  closed  with  wail,  resume  their 

life, 
They  would  but  find  in  child  and 
wife 
An  iron  welcome  when  they  rise  : 

'Twas  well,  indeed,  when  warm  with 
wine. 
To  pledge  them  with  a  kindly  tear, 
To  talk  them  o'er,  to  wish  tlieni  here, 

To  count  their  memories  half  divine  ; 

But  if  they  came  who  past  away. 
Behold  their  brides  iii  other  hands  ; 
The  hard  heir  strides   about  their 
lands. 

And  will  not  yield  them  for  a  day. 

Yea,  tho'  their  sous  «were  none  of 
these, 
Kot  less  the  yet-loved  sire  would 

make 
Confusion  worse  than  death,   and 
shake 
The  pillars  of  domestic  peace. 

I  Ah  dear  but  come  thou  back  to  me : 

I  Whatever  change  the   years  have 

I  wrought, 

I  I  And  not  yet  one  lonely  thought 

I  That  cries  against  my  wish  for  thee< 

r — — 


XCI. 


WiiEx  rosy  plumelets  tuft  tho  larch. 
And    rarely    pipes    the    mouuwd 

thrush; 
Or  underneath  the  barren  bush 

Flits  by  the  sea  blue  bird  of  March ; 

Come,  wear  the  form  by  which  I  know 
Thy  spirit  in  time  among  thy  peers, 
The  hope  of  unaccomplish'd  yeais 

Be  large  and  lucid  round  thy  brow. 

When     summer's    hourly-mellowing 
change 
May  breathe,  with  many  roses  sweet. 
Upon  the  thousand  waves  of  wheat, 

That  ripple  round  tho  lonely  grange ; 

Come  :  not  in  watches  of  tho  night. 
But  when  tho   sunbeam    broodeth 

warm, 
Come,  beauteous  in  thine  after  form, 

And  like  a  liner  light  iu  light. 

XCII. 

Ip  any  vision  should  reveal 
Thy  likeness,  I  might  count  it  vain 
As  but  the  canker  of  the  brain : 

Yea,  tho'  it  spake  and  made  appeal 

To  chances  where  our  lots  were  cast 
Together  in  the  davs  behind, 
I  might  but  say,  I  hear  a  wind 

Of  memory  murmuring  the  past. 

Yea,  tho'  it  spake  and  bared  to  victv 
A  fact  within  the  coming  year; 
And  tho'  the  months,  re>olvlngnear. 

Should  prove   the   phantom-warning 
true. 

They  mieht  not  seem  thy  prophecies, 
But  spiritual  presentiments, 
And  such  refraction  of  events 

As  often  rises  ere  they  rise. 

XCIII. 

I  snALL  not  see  thee.    Dare  I  say 
No  spirit  ever  brake  the  band 
That  stays  him  from  the  native  land, 

Where  tirst  he  walk'd  when  clasp'd  in 
•   clay? 

No  visual  shade  of  some  one  lont, 
But  he,   the   Spirit    himself,   may 

come 
Where  all  the  nerve  of  sense  is 
numb  ; 
Spirit  to  Spirit,  Ghost  to  Ghost. 

O.  therefore,  from  thy  sightless  range 
With  gods  in  uncoujectured  bliss, 
O,  from  tlie  distance  of  the  abyss 

Of  tenfold-complicated  change, 

Descend,  and  touch,  and  enter ;  hear 
The  wish  too  strong  for   words  to 

name ; 
That  in  this  blindness  of  the  frame 

My  Ghost  may  feel  that  thine  is  near. 

xciv. 
How  pur«  at  heart  and  sound  in  head, 


LOW  pur 
With  w 


hat  divine  afCocUous  bold. 


^^ 


IN  ME3I0RIAM. 


Sxneft,  like  them,  Uiod  loo  cunt 
Ht  iiiirlt  Is  aC  peue  wiUi  all. 
Thej'  linunt  tie  lUenee  of  tlie  hrensl, 

IiiiaelniitloiiB  culm  aiiil  fair. 

ThemcgnocT  likeacloudieMolr, 

Bat  whan  Ihn  benrt  is  full  nl  rlin. 

Auii  iTcAi  UiB  boiu^olil  Joe  vlUilu. 

Bt  night  we  Unger'd  on  the  lawn, 
For  underfoot  the  herb  was  dry  ; 
And  geiilal  vaimlh ;  aud  u'er  the 

The  Bilver7  hue  of  aummer  drawn  ; 

And  calm  tlmt  let  the  tapera  buni 
Unwaveriiig:  iiotftiricltel  cWn'd  : 
The  brook  alone  fol-oir  was  beanl. 

And  ou  the  board  the  flulWiIng  uru: 

AndbalB  went  roand  in  fraitranc shies, 
Anil  wbeel'd  or  lit  the  lilmj  ahapea 
That  haunt  tbs  dusk,  wlQi  ermine 

And  nooU;  breaaU  nnd  beaded  e;es ; 

'Willie  now  we  uing  old  gonGS  that 
From  knoll  to  knoll,  niiere,  conch'd 
The  white  klne  gUmmer'd.  and  the 

Laid  iheir  dark  anna  about  the  field. 

But  when  Ihos. 


Mon\i 


Wlilidi 

night. 

And  In  i 


IS    iu   Mb   WBa    wouud,  nni 
impyraal  heights  of  Ibnuglit, 

ori.1. 


of  Tlme~t£e  siiockB 
If  Death.  At  length  hit 
'd>  atrlckeu  thro'  ^'It 
Vagne  worda !  bnt  ah,  how  hanl  t 
vmoulded  fcTms  of  speedi, 
Thro"  memory  that  which  I  becaii 
Till  now  tHe  doubtful  duak  reveal  _ 
The  knolla  once  mora  wheiv,  couch'd 
The  white  fclne  glimmery,  anil  lbs 
Laid  their  da*  arma  about  the  noW  : 
Aiidsuck'd  &Dm  out  Ihedlatnniitlooiii 
A  breeie  b««aii  to  Ireinble  o'er 
The  large  leareB  of  Uie  aycamore 
And  flui^tuala  all  tbs  stjll  petfoine 
And  galberine  treBhlfer  overbeiul, 
liock'd  the  f ull-follageil   elnit^  and  I 

The  heavj-folied  roae,  niid  iJnnir 
The  liUea  to  aud  Iiu,  aiid  aaid 
"The  dawn,   tho  dawn,"    and    dl 
And  East    and    ■West,    wilheut 
Milt  their  dim  lighti.  like  life  ai 


the  house  light  aftar  light 


glad  year  which  onco 

which  kept 


Of  tKa 
been, 
III  tlioee  fa 
their  greei , 
Tho  nobis  leltsrs  of  the  dead : 
111  strangely  on  the  eilance  brpks 
Lhe    slleui-epeakiug    woidt.    and 
flrangu 
ffw.  ioYo'a  dumb  ery  defying  clianga 
teat  his  worth;  audscraugelysiHike 
a-he  faltli,  the  vigor,  buhl  to  dwell 

Suggeitiaii  tiTher  inmost  cell. 

So  vord  br  woni,  and  line  by  line. 


/ 


In  many  a  subtle  quea 
Wbolouch'dajarTitig 


tued. 


Bui 

Perplei 


I  faltli,  but  pure  in  deeds, 
»e«  more   laiUi   lu'honeM 
t,  Iban  in  half  the  crendi. 
lie  fought  hi*  doubts   and   galbcT'd 

He  nould  not  make  his  judtnociii 

blind,  ■*     " 

He  faced  tho  specfrea  of  tile  mind 

And   laid   them :    ihua    ho   etaa  at 

To  find  a  stronger  laith  his  own  '. 


/JV  MEJ^ORIAM. 


Whkli  nukw  tha  dukiuM  &;id  tl 
And  Jwelli  not  In  the  light  nlona. 
But  111  the  (IsrkniiH  uid  Uia  «k)U<], 

At  orar  Siiial'a  pealia  of  aid. 


a  ha>  talk'd  wiUi  mckt 

da  on  mlat;  inoiintBlntn' 
m  TMt  uliudow  glorj-cioi 


hearU  of   old  haio   beat  in 
maallnga    miide    December 


Are  eunest  that  he  lovee  lie 
^lule'ar  the  f^thlen  people 
Iter  life  1<I  lone,  he  Hlto 


Ha  reads  th 


Ha  aeeiDs  to  ellgbt  her  ehnple  hean!' 

He  thiids  the  lubTilnth  of  tha  mind, 

" ■■-  "- 1  of  the  Btar, 

i  IhhikB  him'iind. 

She  kaepa  the  xlft  o(  Team  before, 

A  wtther-d  violet  is  lier  bliss  : 

She  kiiows  not  what  his  ErealneBiils: 

For  that,  (or  all,  ihe  lovealilai  more. 

For  him  she  plBys,  to  him  ahe  filnin  ; 

Of  early  fafti.  and  pllRbleil  vo»s ; 


Sbe   dwe^  ou  Mm   wiOi  "aiUiIui 
1 1  auuiot  imderetand  ;  I  lore." 


la ;  jon  will  ac 


1 1  aidl'd  bi 


Tonle«TB_.^- 

And  thoaa  fair  h 

When  I  vai  tbere  with  him ;  anu  t,< 

Bt  Mmmei  tielta  of  whaac  oud  vluo 

Tu  wbate  1m  breathedbli  lateit  bieat: 
That  Ci^.  All  bar  aplcndor  seems 
Ho  Uvelfer  ttian  tha  wisp  that  glean 

On  Lstba  lu  tba  e  jaa  of  Death. 

Lat  ber  creat  Danube  toUlns  f  Air 
EDwinAhar  1»W,  uiimark'd  of  me: 
1  have  act  aean.  I  will  not  >ee 

nnma ;  ntber  dnam  that  Iheic, 


I>  ortener  partAd,  fathers  bend 

Gnarr  at  the  heels  of  men.  and  pray 
By  each  culd  hearth,  and  tadiMM 

Her  s^ndnw  on  the  blaie  of  kinea : 
And  jet  myself  have  beard  him  eay, 

With  Hiatelier  progreFS  id  and  fro 
The  double  tides  of  eharloC>  flow 
By  park  and  suburb  under  brown 
Of  Insrler  leares :  no  moremntent 
He  tol.l  me.  lives  In  any  crowds 
-tVbenulllH  nay  »lthlsmp>,sii^  loud 
■With  sport  iiud  soug,  In  booth  uid 


RiSEBT  thou  thUB.  dim  dawn,  («nln. 
So  loud  wllh  Toiies  ot  the  birds, 
So  thick  with  lowing  ol  the  harda, 

Day,  when  I  lost  the  Sower  of  meu ; 

Who  tremblest  Ihro'  thy  darkling  rod 


neadoii 


thy 

1  breathing  of  Ihei 


holy  to  the  deadj 

And  Autumn  laying  liere  and  Ihert 

A  llary  fiiigec  on  the  feavub  ; 

Who  wakenest  with  thy  balmy  breatl 

To  myriads  on  the  genial  earth. 

Memories  of  bridal,  or.  of  blrih. 


indscape  underneath, 
s  memory  of  my  friend ; 
aaq  and  whispering  reed, 
up  the  winily  wold  ; 


rsl  rlTUlet  tbat  iwet^w 


V 


;.V  MEMOniAM, 


To   left  and   right  thro"    meBdoiiy 


But  ew*h»  pieced 
Aiid  *acli  roUeelii  a 
Alii  leaving  thi«e. 

ei". 

»™aj-. 

rsTVATcn'D,  tio  £an) 

=Tlb„ 

Sh  Bhall 

TMb  inapls  bam  Kiel 

Unloved,  the  »iin-flowor,  ahlnlnc  fnJ  r, 
Hay  rouiia  wlUi  Uanies  lier  ilisli  g/ 

And  ntnv  a  rDae-camation  tebl 
VitU  Hammer  aplte  Uia  liuuuulng  iJr  i 
UHloved,  bj  many  aiandv  tar, 

UnoatBd  (or,  gird  tlie  windy  grova, 
And  Hood  Uie  Laimta  of  liern  aD< 

Or  iHto  silver  Brrewa  braak 
Tlio  i^lng  moon  iu  croek  and  cava  ; 
Till  fHim  tbe  Bfl^an  andlbe  wild 

A  fresh  nMociaiion  blow. 


And  vear  ' 

'romidlLli 


r  lops  the  gladea^ 
iTuie  billu. 


TTe  leave  Ihe  well-belove<l  plate 
Tlia  roofs,  that  hoard  uut  ea 
Trill  sb'ellflr  one  ot  itranger  race. 


>!■ 


A  river  sliding  by  the  wi 

Tbe  ball  with  harp  and  carol  rang. 
llicv  Bang  ot  what  ia  wise  nml  ^ 
Andgraoeful,    In  Ihe ';«utrB  I 

A  staiue  vell'd,  to  whlub  Ihey  bj 

And  vthich,  tho'  veil'd,  waa  luu 
Tlio  shape  of  him  I  loved,  and 


To  where  a  little  shallop  lay 
At  anchor  in  tbe  dood  below  ; 
And  on  by  many  a  level  mead, 

And  ehadowing  bluil  that  inndeths 

Vte  gilded  viodlng  under  nmlca 
Of  ilia,  and  tlie  golden  reed : 
And  atlll  iw  vaater  grew  the  shore. 

And  loU'd   the    dooda   iu   grand 

The  nialdani  gather'd  strength  and 
Aiuf^aence,  lordUer  than  before ; 
And  I  myself,  vbn  sat  apart 

And  wiittk'd  them,  wai'il  in  evm 
limb: 


Of  tl 


ss  of  a  Titan-i 
ouWslngtli 


lAosh 


[ofa, 


Oils  I 


Until  tbe  tarward-creeptng  tides 
BegBn  lo  toam,  and  we  to  dntv 
From  deep  tu  deep,  to  whore  wa  t- 

A  great  ship  lift  her  shining  aides. 

The  man  wa  loved  was  there  oi 
Bnt  tliriee  as  large  aa  map ' 
To  greet  us.    Up  the  side] 

And  fell  In  silenoe  on  his  iieca 

Whereat  those  maidens  with  o 
Bewail'd  their  lot ;  I  did  then 

served  thoo  here,"  ihey  as 


willU 


leave  ua  now  baUndfj 

>,  they  could  uol  win 
■  from  mvlip*  but  h* 
'■  enter  Ultewbe  ye 
us  :  "■  Ihej'  eulei'il  liw 


IN  MEMOniAM. 


129 


And  while  the  vlnd  began  to  pveep 
A  music  out  of  abeet  uid  slirond, 
We  steer'd  ber  toward  a  orimson 
cloud 

Tbat  landlike  slept  along  tbo  deep. 

CIY. 

TnE  time  drawa  near  tbo  birtb  of 
Gbrist; 

Tbe  moon  is  bid,  tbe  niebt  is  still ; 

A  ringle  cbureb  below  the  bill 
Is  pealing,  folded  in  tbe  mist. 

A  single 'i>eal  of  bells  below, 
Tbm  wakens  at  this  bour  of  rest 
A  single  murmur  in  tbe  breast, 

TLat  tbese  are  not  tbe  bells  I  know. 

Like  stranger's  yoices  here  they  sound, 
In  lands  where  not  a  memory  strays, 
Nor  landmark  breathes  of  other  days, 

Bat  all  is  new  unballow'd  ground. 

cv. 

To-XTOHT  unsatber'd  let  us  leave 
This  laurel,  let  this  holly  stand  : 
We  live  within  tbe  sti-aiiger's  land, 

And  strangely  falls  our  Christmas  eve. 

Our  fMlier's  dust  is  left  alono 
And  silent  under  other  snows : 
There  in  due  time  tbo  wood-bino 
blows, 

Tbe  violet  comes,  but  wo  are  gone. 

No  more  shall  wayward  grief  abuse 
The  genial  bour  with  mask  and  mlroc ; 
For  chance  of  place,  like  growth  of 
time, 

lias  broke  tbe  bond  of  dying  use. 

Let  cares  tbat  petty  shadows  cast. 

By  which  our  lives  are  chiefly  provctl, 
'  A  little  spare  the  night  I  loved, 
And  bold  it  solemn  to  the  post. 

Dut  let  no  footsteps  beat  the  floor. 

Nor  bowl  of  wassail  mantle  warm  ; 

For  who  would  keep  an  ancient  form 
Xbro'  which  tbe  spirit  breathes  uo 
more? 

Be  neither  song,  nor  came,  nor  feast ; 

Nor  harp  be  touch'd,  nor  flute  bo 
blown ; 

No  dance,  no  motion,  save  alone 
What  lightens  in  the  lucid  east 

Of  riring  worlds  by  yonder  wood. 

Long  sleeps  tbe  summer  iu  the  seed ; 

Kan  out  your  measured  arcs,  and 
lead 
Hm  dosing  cycle  rich  in  good. 

cvi. 

ViiSQ  out.  wild  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 
Tbe  flying  cloud,  tbe  frosty  light : 
The  year  is  dying  in  tbe  night : 

Ring  out,  wild  oelis,  and  let  him  die. 


Biug  oat  ihe  old,  ring  in  the  new. 
Kmgi  bapjpy  bells,  across  tbe  snow : 
The  year  is  soing,  let  him  go ; 

Slug  oat  the  ntlse,  ring  in  tbe  true. 


Bing  out  tbe  grief  that  saps  the  mind, 
For  those  that  here  we  see  no  more ; 
lUiis  out  tbe  feud  of  rich  and  poor. 

Ring  m  redress  to  all  mankind. 

lUng  out  a  slowly  dyincr  cause, 
And  ancient  forms  of  party  strlfo ; 
King  in  the  nobler  modes  of  life, 

With  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws. 

Hing  out  the  want,  tbe  care,  the  sin. 

The  faithless  coldness  of  the  times ; 
Ring  out,  ring  out  my  mournful  rhymes. 
But  ring  the  fuller  minstrel  in. 

Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood. 
The  civic  slander  and  the  spite ; 
Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 

Ring  ui  the  common  love  of  good. 

liins  out  old  shapes  of  foul  disease ; 

Ring  out  this  narrowing  lust  of  gold ; 

Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old. 
Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 

Ring  in  the  valiant  man  and  free. 
The  larger  heart,  the  kindlier  hand ; 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land. 

Ring  iu  the  Christ  tbat  is  to  be. 

^  CVII. 

It  is  the  day  when  he  was  bom, 
A  bitter  day  that  early  sank 
Behind  a  purple-frosty  bank 

Of  vapor,  leaving  night  forloni. 

The  time  admits  not  flowers  or  leaves 
To  deck  the  banquet.    Fiercely  flies 
The  blast  of  North  and  East,  and  ice 

Makes  daggers  at  the  sharpened  eaves, 

And  bristles  all  the  brakes  and  thorns 
To  yon  hard  crescent,  as  she  bangs 
About  the  wood  which  grides  and 
clangs 

Its  leafless  ribs  and  iron  boms 

Toeetber  in  the  drifts  that  pass 

To  darken  on  the  rolling  brine 
That  breaks  the  coast.    But  fetch  the 

wine, 
Arrange  the  board  and  brim  tbe  glass; 

Bring  in  great  loss  and  let  them  lie, 
To  make  a  solid  core  of  heat ; 
Be  cheerful-minded,  talk  and  treat 

Of  aJl  things  ev'n  as  he  were  by ; 

We  keep  the  day.   With  festal  cheer, 
With  books  and  music,  surelv  we 
Will  drink  to  him,  whate*er  ne  be, 

And  sing  tbe  songs  he  loved  to  hear. 

CVIII. 

I  WILL  not  shut  me  from  my  kind. 
And,  lest  I  stiffen  into  stone. 
I  will  not  eat  my  heart  alone, 

Nor  feed  with  sighs  a  passing  wind : 

What  profit  lies  in  barren  faith, 
And  vacant  yearning,  tbo'  with 

might 
To  scale  tbe  heaven*s  highest  height^ 

Or  dive  below  tbe  wells  oiDeath? 


V 


IX  MLHOlil.lM. 


Alid  oil  Ibo  ilaiillu.of  ilaaLh  ll» 


Prom  Uuunebold 


icrapblc  Iiitelloct  lu 


IT  Itia  iloutKB  ciC 


ulon-aioBlD.  wMch 

lOtoua  of  lh_„ 

.nil  iicmscetic  gloum  , 

And  pbmIou  pura  \a  suowy  rJ^oDni 

TUfo'  bX\  Uie  years  of  Apdl  bloom ; 

A  loTo  ot  ftosUom  rarely  (elt. 
or  rreadoiu  In  her  rogal  Beat 
UIKuglaiiil;  iiutllie  sciiDolboy  lieal 


, child  wonld  twlui 

A  triutful  buiil,  Duasli'd,  in  thine, 

Anil  Hull  hla  comloic  lutby  f&ee  ; 

All  llieia  liave  beau,  and  theo  mUii 
llBYfl  loolt'd  ou  :  ir  they  look'd  li 
My  •linmo  In  iminler  who  reninln, 

Tnv  convBrao  draw  us  with  delight. 

T!l0  uiBll  oC  raUiB  and  rlyer  ycttii ; 

The  feeble  loul,  a  baiiiit  ot  feius, 
Forgot  hia  wealtutMs  lu  thy  sight. 
UiiUiestba  luyal-h  ant  ted  hung, 

l^he   pruud   was    halt    illeiLriu'd    o 
pride, 

Mor  eared  1}ie  seipenCat  tbTeide 
T.-<  Ulckei  vrltU  his  double  tuugue. 

The  Jlippaut  put  hiiuBun  w  ntumn 
■Waa  sofleu'cl,  and  he  knew  not  why ; 
AVhIle  I.  thy  deaieat,  sat  npart, 

Aiidteltlbv  trluoijib  wasosmine; 

The  grscef  ul  tact,  tha  Christian 

Not  mine  tlie  sweelneas 
But  mine  the  love,  that  win  u 
And.  bom  at  love,  the  yague 

nrn  aiiun  ail  ImltatlTo  will 


rtby. 


ikill. 


Tohlni  \.UoQi 


The  chnrl  In  spirit,  liowo'er  lie  veil 
Hla  want  In  forma  for  fashion-.  Ml 


'i'o  nhoui  a  IhouBSiid  lufinioricn  mL 
Kot  iKiiiig  leBK  butiiioro  than  nil 
Tho  eautlonens  ho  Beem'd  to  bo, 
EeBt  Beoni'd  tlio   thing  ho   was,  and 

rnch  omco  or  tha  aocial  hoor 
And  nalivo  growth  u'f  iioblo  luiinl  ; 
Nor  OTOT  imrroWTieBB  or  Bpilo, 
Or  villain  (aiipy  DBOIing  by/ 
l)^?  iu  Lha  Bxprsaslon  of  an  eTi>. 
Whare  Ood  and  Mature  met  iu  llgiii , 
And  tliua  he  bora  without  abata 
The  eratiii  old  naoie  of  eentleiuaii, 

And  Bull'd  wiLh  all'lgiKiblc  use! 


ItiGii  wisdom  holds  my  wisdom  len. 
That  1,  who  gaie  with  t«m|wrmo  «y# 
On  gloriouB  TnaufflcteneleB.  . 

Set  light  by  uarrow  perfectueM. 

Dut  tliDU,  tliat  filleat  all  the  room 
or  all  my  love,  art  renaon  why 


OllBOUlB,tll 

e  leaaar  lords  or'Uoom. 

For  what   watt   Uiou?    somo    uomI 

Syranc  up  for  ever  at  a  tooeh, 
And  hope    could  i.uver   hoiio  KM 

In  natuhiusthoo  from  hour  to  hour,   ' 

^I'u" 

«  ot"^ui 

'&'i„. 

And  world-wide  flnc 

»'Ea. 

'Winch  not  alone  had  guided  me, 
Butsiirvod  thuaeuoua  Uiat  uiayriMi 


A  sonl  on  hlghell  niisiion  a«nt, 
A  potant  Tol™  ol  ParliBineiit, 
A  pillar  sceadtaM  In  tlie  storm, 
Shontd  llFeiited  boldiien  gather  foro4> 
Becomiiig,  when  the  tlma  has  blnl^ 


7.V  MEMOPdAM, 


131 


v/iiL 


with  thousand  shocks  that  come  ami 
so. 

agonies,  with  enerffies. 
With  overthrowinfi:s,  ami  with  cries. 
And  undulations  to  aiul  fro.  . 

cxir. 

Who  lores  not  Knowledge  ?  Who  shall 
roil 
Affainst  her  beanty  ?  May  plie  mix 
with  men  and  prosper  I    Who  shall 
fix 
Her  pillars  ?   Let  her  work  prevail. 

But  on  her  forehead  sits  a  fire  : 
She  sets  her  forward  countenance 
And  leaps  into  the  future  chance, 

Submitting  all  things  to  desire. 

Half-grown  as  yet,  a  child,  and  vain- 
She  cannot  fight  the  fear  of  death. 
What  is  she.  cut  from  love  and  faith, 

But  some  wild  Pallas  from  the  brain 

Of  Demons?  fiery-hot  to  burst 
All  barriers  in  her  onward  race 
For  power.   Let  her  know  her  place ; 

She  is  the  second,  not  the  fl»t, 

A  higher  hand  must  make  her  mild, 
If  all  be  not  in  vain ;  and  guide 
Her  footsteps,  moving  side  by  side 

With  wisdom,  like  the  younger  child : 

For  she  is  earthly  of  the  mind, 
But  Wisdom  heavenly  of  the  soul. ' 
O,  friend,  who  earnest  to  thy  goal 

Bo  early,  leaving  me  behind, 

I  would  the  great  world  grew  like  thee. 
Who  grewest  not  alone  in  power 
And  knowledge,  but  by  year  and  hour 

In  reverence  and  in  chanty. 

cxv. 

Kow  fades  the  last  long  streak  of  snow« 
Now  bourgeons  every  maze  of  quick 
About  the  lioweriug .  squares,  and 
thick 

By  ashen  roots  the  violets  blow. 

Now  rings  tbe  woodland  loud  and  long. 
The  distance  takes  a  lovelier  hue, 
Anddrown'd  in  yonder  living  blue 

The  lark  becomes  a  sightless  song. 

Kow  dance  the  lights  on  lawn  and  lea, 
The  tlocks  are  whiter  down  the  vale. 
And  milkier  every  milky  sail 

On  winding  stream  or  distant  sea ; 

Where  now  the  seamew  pipes,  or  dives 
in  yonder  greening  gleum,  and  tly 
The  happy  birds,  that  change  their 
sky 
To  build  and  brood ;  that  live  their 
Uvea 

Viom  land  to  land ;  and  in  my  breast 
Spring  wakens  too ;  and  my  regret 
BecomeH  an  April  violet. 

And  buds  and  blossoms  like  the  rest. 

CXVl. 

Is  it,' then,  regret  for  buried  time 
Tuat  keeuUer  in  sweet  April  wakes, 


And  meets  the  year,  and  gives  and 
takes 
The  colours  of  t)*o  orescent  prime  ? 

Not  all :  the  songs,  the  stirring  air, 
The  life  re-orient  out  of  dust. 
Cry  thro*  the  sense  to  hearten  trust 

In  that  which  made  the  world  so  fair. 

Not  all  regret ;  the  face  will  shine 
Upon  me,  while  I  muse  alone ; 
And  tliat  dear  voice,  I  once  have 
known. 

Still  speak  to  me  of  me  and  mine  : 

Yet  less  of  sorrow  lives  in  me 
For  days  of  happy  commune  dead  : 
I^ss  yearning  for  the  f liendship  fled, 

Than  some  strong  bond  which  is  to  be. 

ex  VII. 

O  DAYS  and  hours,  your  work  is  thL«», 
To  hold  nie  from  my  proper  place, 
A  little  while  fromnis  embrace, 

For  fuller  gain  of  after  bliss  : 

That  out  of  distance  might  ensue 
l>e8ire  of  nearness  doubly  sweet ; 
And  unto  meeting  when  we  meet, 

Delight  a  hundredfold  accrue, 

For  every  grain  of  sand  that  runs, 
And  every  span  of  shade  that  steals, 
And  every  kiss  of  toothed  wheels, 

And  all  the  courses  of  the  suns. 

CXVIII. 

Contemplate  all  this  work  of  Time, 
The  ffiant  laboring  in  his  youth  ; 
Nor  dream  of  human  love  and  truth, 

As  dying  nature's  earth  and  lime  ; 

But  trust  that  those  we  call  the  dead 
Are  breatliers  of  an  ampler  day 
For  ever  nobler  ends.    They  sav, 

The  solid  eaith  whereon  we  tread 

In  tracts  of  fluent  heat  began, 
And  grew  to  seeminc-random  forms, 
The  seeming  prey  ofcyclic  storms. 

Till  ut  the  last  arose  the  man  ; 

Who  throve  and  branched  from  clime 
to  clime, 
Tlie  herald  of  a  higher  race. 
And  of  himt^elf  iu  higher  place 

If  so  ho  typo  this  work  of  lime 

Within  himself,  from  more  to  more  f 
Or,  crown'd  with  attributes  of  woe 
IJke  glories,  move  his  course  and 
show 

That  life  is  not  as  idle  ore. 

But  iron  dug  from  central  gloom, 
And  heated  hot  with  burning  fears. 
And  dipt  in  baths  of  hissing  tears. 

And  batter'd  with  the  shocks  of  doom 

To  shape  and  use.    Arise  and  fly 
The  reeling  Faun,  the  sensual  feast  ,• 
Move  iipward,  working  out  the  beast|. 

And  let  tne  ape  and  tiger  die.     . 


V 


7.V  Mi:.\lor:iAJi. 


DooK.i,  wlioro  my  heart  it 

So  qulcklT.  not  lu  ono  tbi 

IcmnBOiioBtnoiB:  thocK 
I  aTnall  Uie  meadow  \n  the  ■ 
I  liBBT  ■  cblrp  of  bird!  :  I  x 

Bstwlxt  Uie  black  fmiU 
drawn 

A  llcllC-blas  lane  of  tnrly 


A  iphen  of  stoTB  tiov 
In  all  bar  motlou  one  w.u  ...-  , 
If  thou  Wert  with  Dio,  And  iha  gmn 

Divide  ua  not,  be  with  me  now, 

Tfll all inj- blood,  a^tuUp* way"*' 
Co  qulcleird  with  a  llTeller  bnath, 


my  thonEhfB  with 
proMiiro  of  thine  1 


Moimetla  moakerieB  1  not  In  vain, 
IJkoTaul  with  b«a«(a,  I  fouebt  with 

Death; 
lint  only  conidng  casta  In  clay : 


Let  him.  tho  wlier  mon  who  Bpttiiea 
HereaCtei,  up  f com  childhood  Bliaps 
Hli  action  lllio  the  creaMrape, 


Bai>  Hespet  o'er  Iho  hnried  aun 

*  nd  leodT,  thou,  to  dis  with  him, 

_Jiou  ivatcheil  all  thingi  ever  dim 

And  dimmer,  and  a  glory  donn : 

TJie  team  U  looaen'J  from  the  wain. 

The  boat  li  drawn  upon  tho  ehoro. ; 

And  tUe  ia  daikeu'd  In  the  brain.  '' 
Bright  Pho8pbor,freahor  tortbe  night 
Uy  thee  lie  world'a  (froat  work  [: 

Be^nnlng,  and  tho  wakeful  bird ; 
'-•'  ■>• ■>-  iraator  light : 


V- 


clluk, 
nd  aee-Bt  the  moYine  of  tha  tea 

Sweat  Heaper-Phoiphor,  double 
For  what  U  one,  the  tint,  tlie  1 
Thou,  like  my  prsaent  and  m; 

Thy  place  la  chonEed ;  thou  a 


□p  aoHiuat  uty  doom, 
I   to   bunt  ihu   folded 

al  HeaveoB  Bfaln, 
ouee  more. in  placid  awe, 
itroua  luiagluallou  roU 


To  lace  tue  etetii 


1 


fe  ailZiealh ; 


I  Blip  the  thought!  of  llf  I 
Anil  all  the  breeeo  of  Fancy 
And  every  dew-drop  paint: 


TiTEBr.  rolls  thu  deep  where  cro" 
O   eailh,  what   ehon^a   3mfiC  thou 


Fruni  loim  ii>  form,   and   iwoiint  J 

They  meit  like  miat,  the  solid 
Like  cloudt  Uiey  ahupa  ibuDieeli 

so. 
But  in  my  spirit  will  I  dwell, 

And  dream  my  dream,  uAd 

For  tho-  my  Hub  may  breathe  adieu,   (1 
1  Daunot  thiuk  the  thins  facewutl.  jj 

That  whlcli  wo  dare  InvoVo  to  1 


dm 


faith) 
They,  Ono,  All;  T 


dorkneaa  wbom   wi 

I  found  Himnotin  wDrM  or  inn. 

Or  easle'B  wing,  or  inaecfa  eye ; 

Nor  liiro'  the  queatloua  men  may  tn 

The  petty  cobwebe  we  have  apuu  : 

If  o'oT  when  faith  had  fall'n  asleep. 

And  heard  an  ever  breaking  (bora 
That  tumbled  Id  the  Godieai  deep ; 
A  warmth  willllJl   tho   breait  would  I 


The  treeiing  reaaon'i 
Slood  upandanlwcr'd 


at,  crying,  knows  lilH  father  ua 

nd  wbac  I  am  beheld  again 

tVhat  ii.  and  no  man  uiidentantai 


AV  UEJfORIAif. 


Y.1K,  tiio'  tbers  nlUn  ix 
A  ciHitndlcUoii  uii  ibe  to 
Vol  IIop«  bk-l  never  loaC 
'  e  did  buE  look  Ihr. 


lies, 
Bocuue  ho  felt 


play'd  wltU    graciou 
■0  fli'il  In  truth  : 
were  fnllnt  core, 
lie  uplrlt  of  the  loug  ; 


V,  tbat  koepa 
Ing.lill. 

•aj  niT  Lord  ftnd  Xln;;, 
pwMi.™  I  BtWlld 
.tldines  of  my  friend, 
hour  his  couj^ers  btliig. 
-w  my  KIna  (Uid  Lord. 
,lho'u  veTlkeep 
I   court    ou  earth,   and 


M  by  lili  faithful  guBrd, 
iid  hear  at  tlmei  a  sentinel 
Who  EDOYei  about  from   plaee   t 

And  whisparB  to  thewnrlda  of  spiLce 
jnUta  deep  nigbl.  that  all  la  tvell. 


rad. 


Tocbdniing  social  truth  ehal 

And  Justice,  ey-n  tho"  tliric..  _„ 

Tbe  red  tool-fury  of  the  Seine 
Should  pile  her  banicadoB  with  dead. 
lot  111  lor  him  that  wean  a  crown. 
And  him,  the  laiar.  In  his  mgti : 
They  tremble,  tbe  lustaliiltie  crags  ; 
Ttia  spires  ol  ice  are  tiippled  dowu, 
And  moltan  np,  and  roar  in  flood  ; 


Aud  the  grsM  £on  al: 


II  blood, 
._  of  He 

t,  happy 


And  uoileat,  knowluf  all  la 


■t  oddlea  In  the  fl< 


..jid  throned  races  may  degrade ; 
Tet,  O  ye  myateiiea  of  good, 
Wild  Hoon  that  fly  with  Hope  and 
all  your  oOlee  had  to  da 


■o  fool  the  < 


Jigloriou 


9  sword. 


To  change  the  bearing  of  a  word. 
To  shift  an  arbitrary  power, 

To  cramp  the  student  at  his  (leak. 

To  mnfce  old  bareneaa  pLcturciqua 
And  tuft  with  graan  a  feudal  tower ; 
Why  then  my  scoru  might  well  de- 


cend 
Tbat  all,  a 


le  piece  of  art. 


Dt./ih  friend,  far  olT,  my  lost  derire 


wn  and  unknown  ;  liuinan,  dlTlne; 
'eet  human  hand  and  lips  aud  eye; 
:ar  heaienly  friend  that  oauat  not 

Strange  friend,  pait,  present,  and  to 
iTO  deepUer,  darklier  understood  i 
'mingle  all  tlie'world  with  thee'. 


What  art  thou  then 

Itut  tho' t  seem  In  star  ana  now< 

To  feel  thee  some  dlftualre  powc 

I  do  not  therefore  love  thee  less : 

My  love  involves  tlie  love  before ; 


-V 


dumgod 

And  ;aC  ii  Ibte  not  less,  I 

Xo  lonmr  cirlng  to  embal 
1 11  dyliiii  saiiDU  a  dead  ic 
But  liku  a  alatue  uilid-set,     ' 

And  moulded  in  colounl  calm. 

Jlocret  la  d^ad,  liutlovo  Is  more 
■Xlmn  lu  the  lummers  tLut  ato  flown, 
For  I  nij-BcIt  witli  Ihssa  havB  grown 

Tq  sometliiug  graaUr  Uian  before  ; 

Wlileti  tnalHis  nppesc  Uie  Bonge  I  mtda 
Aa  Imir  but  Idla  brawling  ih^] 


Of  EdBii  oil  ItB  biidnriwifei : 
On  ma  rhe  bonda  her  blleatul  evea 
And  Itien  an  Uiee;  Uiey  muet  thy 

And  brlilitBn  like  tlic  ttar  that  abook 
Batwtxt  lUB  r^IniH  of  paradiBo- 
O  when  ber  lire  wu  yet  In  bud. 

He  too  forel<i1d  Uio  {jsrf ei:t  rose. 

Foe  ever,  end  ai  fair  as  gocid. 

And  Ihon  art  worthy  ;  full  of  power ; 
As  gentle ;  Uberal-niindod.  BraM, 
Uonsiatent ;  weaiing  all  ibat  weight 

Of  leamlna  UgbUy  like  a  flower. 


10  bride  j 
ee  beilda 


AndlmiutgiTeo 

Sliefeannotpom 
And  me  beblnd  her, 
For  I  tliat  danced  her  on  m;  knee, 

Thfct  watch'd  her  on  her  nnma-i  i 

ThMstileliledanili^ili 
At  lait  muit  part  wiUi  li( 
How  waiting  to  be  made 

Her  feit,  luy  dnrlliig,  u 


the  poriikj  tbey  pi 
That  haa  to'-^Jny  its  sunny  aide. 
To-aay  the  eniTe  la  brieht  for  n... 
For  thtm  tbe  Lglit  ol  lite  lncrBa*e& 
°'"'"  *"■  ~'"™  the  morning  f™n 


Whoi 


iiight  baalde  thi 


To  mt 

Mf  drooping ... . 

The  loainlng  grape  of  ■ 
It  rirclaa  round,  and  fo 


hitecs 


■Til  n. 


And  lioartB  uro  wacm'd,  aiid  facta 
Aa  drinking  health  to  bride  and 
Wo  wiah  them  store  of  happy  daya. 


I  rTI  to  blame  it  I 


-u  or  a  stiller  gue 


Diiff    tll» 


\iid,tho' in  alienee,  wishing  }03-. 
But  they  mtut  co,  the  time  drnwa  n 

And  ttioae  «mifl-fHvor'd  boracaw 

They  riae,  but  liiiger  i  It  Is  lato  ; 
['arcwcll,  we  kiss,  oiidlhcy  ataguit 
K  fhade  falls  on  ns  like  the  dark 

From  little  elondlela  i"  ">»  -"•- 

fiutaweei 


[ethi 


L  away  aa  out  wo  pass 


cuBainahowthelt 

n.l  lalS  of  oUiera ..„ 

ud  how  abe  loak'iL  and  wluiL  lie 
soJd, 


Again  tlie  fcBst,  tbe  speecti,  Ibe  gl 

ot  paaalng  thought,  the 

id  wit.  the  donble  hu 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


135 


And  last  Iho  dance ;  —  till  I  retire ; 
l>umb  Is  tbttt  tower  which  spake  so 

loud. 
And  high  in  heaven  the  streaming 
cload. 
And  on  the  downs  a  rising  Are  : 

And  rise,  O  nioou,  from  yonder  down 
1111  over  down  and  over  dale 
All  night  the  Hhininc  vapor  sail 

And  iranA  the  silent-ligutcd  town, 

The  white-faced  halls,  the  glancing 
rills, 
And  catch  at  every  mountain  head, 
And  o'er  the  friths  that  branch  and 
spread 
Their  sleeping  silver  thro*  the  hills ; 

And  touch  wtih  shade  the  bridal  doors, 
With   tender  gloom  the  roof,  the 

WAll  ; 
And  breaking  !et  the  splendor  fall 

To  spangle  all  the  happy  shores 

By  which  they  rest,  and  ocean  sounds, 
And,  star  and  system  rolling  past, 
A  tioiil  shall  draw  from  out  the  vast 

And  strike  his  being  into  bounds, 

And,  moved  thro'  life  of  lower  phase, 
liesult  in  man,  be  born  and  think. 
And  act  and  love,  a  closer  link 

Setwixt  us  and  the  crowning  race 

Of  those  that,  eye  to  eye,  shall  ]ook 
On  knowledge  ;  under  whoso  com- 
mand 
l8  Earth  and  Earth's,  and  in  their 
hand 
Is  Nature  like  an  open  book ; 

No  longer  half-akin  to  brute. 
For  all  we  thought  and  loved  and 

did, 
And  hoped,  and  snffer'd,  is  but  seed 

Of  what  in  them  is  Howcr  and  fruit ; 

Whereof  the  man,  that  with  me  trod 
This  planet,  was  a  noble  type 
Appearing  ere  the  times  were  ripe. 

That  friend  of  mine  who  lives  in  God, 

That  God,  which  ever  lives  and  loves. 
One  God,  one  law,  one  element. 
And  one  far-off  divine  event, 

To  which  the  whole  creation  moves. 


THE  PMKCESS  :  A  :MEDLEY. 

PROLOGUE. 

Sir  Walter  Vivian  all  a  summer's 
day 

Ckive  his  broad  lawns  until  the  set  of 
sun 

Dp  to  the  people :  thither  flock'd  at 
noon 

His  tenants,  wife  and  child,  and  thith- 
er half 

The  neighboring  borough  with  their 
Institute 

Of  which  he  was  the  patron.  I  was 
there 


From  college,  visiting  the  son,  —  the 

son 
A  Walter  too,— with  others  of  our  set, 
Five  others :  we  were  seven  at  Vivian- 
place. 

And  me  that  morning  Walter  show'd 

the  hunse, 
Greek,  set  with  busts :  from  vases  in 

the  hall 
Flowera  of  all  heavens,  and  lovelier 

tban  their  names, 
Grew  side  by  side ;  and  on  the  pave- 
ment lay 
Carved  stones  of  the  Abbey-ruin  in  the 

park. 
Huge  Ammonites,  and  the  first  bones 

of  Time  : 
And  on  the  tables  every  clime  and  age 
Jumbled  together  ;  celts  and  calumets, 
Clayniore  and  snowshoe,  toys  in  lava, 

fans 
Of  sandal,  ambor,  ancient  rosaries, 
l^abcrious     orient    ivory    sphere    in 

sphere. 
The  cur8e<l  Malayan  crease,  and  bat- 

tle-olubs 
From  the  isles  of  palm :  and  higher  on 

the  walls, 
Betwixt  the  monstrous  horns  of  elk 

and  deer. 
His  own  forefathers'  arms  and  armor 

hung. 

And  « this"  ho  said  "was  Hugh's  at 

Agincourt ; 
And  that  was  old  Sir  Balph's  at  Asca- 

lon : 
A  good  knight  he!  we  keep  a  chronicle 
With  all    about    him"  — which    he 

brought,  and  1 
Dived  in  a  hoard  of  tales  that  dealt 

with  knights 
Half -legend,  hall-historio.  counts  and 

Kings 
Who  laid  about  them  at  their  wills  and 

died ; 
And  mixt  with  these,  a  lady,  one  that 

arm'd 
Her  own  fair  head,  and  sallying  thro* 

the  gate. 
Had  beat  her  foes  with  slaughter  from 

her  walls. 

**0  miracle  of  women,"  said   the 

book, 
"  O  noble  heart  who,  being  strait-be- 
sieged 
By  this  wild  king  to  force  her  to  his 

wish, 
Nor  bent,  nor  broke,  nor  shuini'd  a 

soldier's  death. 
But  now  when  all  was  lost  or  seem'd 

as  lost  — 
Her  stature  more  than  mortal  in  the 

burst 
Of  sunrise,  her  arm    lifted,  eyes  on 

fire  — 
Brake  with  a  blast  of  trumpets  from 

tho  gatC| 


^m 


THE  PniyCESS:  A  SfEDLET. 


And,  railing  on  thsmlike  a  tfaundet- 

bolt, 
ahB  tminnlcil  BomebnneslliliPr  Uuiaas" 

h«U. 
And  eoaie  were  vlielm'd  nitli  mlMlIes 

oC  Ibe  null, 
And  »oino  were    pnBhM  wiUi   lnnct» 

from  Uie  toc-k. 
And  part   were   ilrowu'd   within  Uio 

-\Th1tlLric  brook ; 
O  miracle  oi  noble  ivomanliood  t " 

So  uns  tbe  gallinl;  glorleue  eiiion- 

And.I  mi  mpt  In  tliU,  "Como  out," 

he  tald, 
"To  tbe  Alibuy  :  there  Ib  Aunt  EllO' 

beth 
And  ■toler  Ulla  with  Uio  rest."    Ws 

(I  kept  the  book  and  had  ni;  Ou^er  In 

11) 
Down  thro' the  pBrk;  stmnso  was  the 

Bight  lu  me  ; 
For  >U  the  Blopliig  pnetuia  laurmur'd, 

With  bapny  rocBB  and  with  hoUdtj- 
OChere  moved  the  multitude,  u  tUon- 

und  heads ; 
The  patient  leaders  of  their  InflUmtn 
Tangbt  theoi  nith  facta.    One  re 


Pure   aport:    i 


It  of  at 

ildpe. 


11  red 


.Dund  the  ._. 
A  little  elDck-work 
piled 


m-llko   ui 
'n  fairy 


before  lbs  dUBky 

.veuly  posts  u£  lelt- 
Tliey  llaah'd  a  aaucy  mestago  to  and 
Betnecii  the  mimic  statloua;  bo  that 
wllb   Science ; 


IT  bowl-d 


overliead 


of    boji  with  I 

wUket ;  bablet  rall'd 

I  grau  ;  sad  men 

Arranged  a  country  dance,  and  flew 
thro'  light 
Lnd    afaadow,   while    Iho    twangllng 

with  SoIdler-Iaddle,    and 

liBlea  of  lotli 
Made  noise  wllh  bees  and  breeze  from 

Stranger  vas  the  tight  and  miacklng 

And  long  we   goxed,  but  aatlated  at 

lenglh 
Camo  Id  the  luJns.    High-nrch'd  and 

Of  finest  Oothle  lighter  thnn  a  Are, 

Thro-  one  wide  cbaani  of  Ucde  and  fmt     - 


iBted  unalte,  ai 

rep-up  Bpoat  irhercon  ibc  glldBd 

id  like  a  wisp :   and  eomiwhat 

knoba  and  wires  and  tIbIb 
J 

Eohoanswer'dln  her  Bleep 
n  uouow  lielda:   and  heti)  were 

teleftoopea 
azure  vlewi ;  and  there  a  group  of 

slrcfi  waited,  whom  the   electiic 
shock 
Qiallnk'd  wltb  shrlefce  and  laugbtor: 

paddling 

lilies:  peich'd  abou 

petty  nijwa; 


Annni 


lalden  Ai 
1  fair  di 
preach' 

real  call 

all  things  g 
Ibier, 


ts  ;  and  tbBce  w*a  -^ 

ilf, 

ptagtdnst  the  wall,    . 


let;    about    It  Uj   the-^ 
Joln'd  them  :  Uien  the  - 


e  for  the  crowd, 


Of  college  :  he  had  cllmb'd  scroi 

Audbohnd  squeeied  himself  betwiil 

the  bare. 
And  he   had  breatb'd  the  Proclor'a 

DIbcusbM  W  tutor,  tough  to  common 

Bui  bnuejing  at  the  wblHper  of  a ; 
And  one  the  Master,  an  a  regit 

Teneet'd  wllh  eancUmonSouB  tbeoiT.       I 
"-  It  Willie  they  Ulk'd,  aboye  tfiilr  1 

fonim  waSor  l»dy-c1«d  ]  wliirt  | 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


3ff 7  book  to  miad :  and  opening  this  I 

rtaA 
Of  old  Sir  Balph  a  page  or  two  that 

rang 
"With  tilt  and  tourney ;  then  the  tale 

of  her 
That  drove  her  foes  with  slaughter 

from  her  walls. 
And  much  I  praised  her  nobleness,  and 

"Where." 
Ask'd  Walter,  patting  Lilians  head  (she 

lay 
Beside  him)  **  lives  there  such  a  woman 

now?" 

Quick  answer*d  Lilia  "There  ore 

thousands  now 
&uch  women,  but  convention  beats 

them  down : 
It  is  but  bringing  up ;  no  more  than 

tiiat : 
You  men  have  done  it :  how  I  hate  you 

aUI 
Ah,  were  I  somethhig  great !  I  wish  I 

were 
Some  mighty  poetess,  I  would  shame 

you  then, 
That  love  to  keep  us  children  I  O  I 

wish 
That  I  were  some  great  princess,  I 

would  build 
Far  off  from  men  a  college   like  a 

man*s, 
And  I  would  teach  them  all  that  men 

are  taught ; 
Wa  are  twice  as  quick ! "    And  here 

she  shook  aside 
The  hand  that  play'dthe  patron  with 

her  curls. 

And  one  said  smiling  "  Pretty  were 

the  sight 
If  our  old  haus  could  change  their  sex, 

and  flaunt 
With  prudes  for  proctors,  dowagers 

for  deans. 
And  sweet  girl-graduates  in  their  gold- 
en hJEdr. 
I  think  they  should  not  wear  our  rusty 

gowns. 
But  move  as  rich  as  Emperor-moths, 

or  Balph 
Who  shines  so  in  the  corner ;  yet  I 

fear, 
If  there  were  many  lillas  in  the  brood. 
However  deep  you  might  embower  the 

nest, 
Some  boy  would  spy  it." 

At  this  upon  the  sward 
Bhe  tapt  her  tiny  silken-sandal'dfoot : 
"  That's  your  light  way ;  but  I  would 

make  it  oeath 
For  any  male  thing  but  to  peep  at  us." 

Petulant  phe  spoke,  and  at  herself 

she  laugh'd ; 
A  rosebud  set  with  little  wilful  thorns, 
And  sweet  as  English  air  could  make 

her,  she : 
But  Walter  hail'd  a  score  of  names 

upon  her, 


137 
"and  "ungrateful 


And  "  petty  Ogress, 
Puss." 

And  swore  he  long*d  at  coll^;e,  only 
long'd. 

All  else  was  well,  for  she-society. 

They  boated  and  they  cricketed;  they 
talk*d 

At  wine,  in  clubs,  of  art,  of  politics : 

They  lost  their  weeks ;  they  vext  liie 
souls  of  deans  ; 

They  rode  ;  they  betted ;  mode  a  hun- 
dred friends, 

And  caught  the  blossom  of  the  flying 
terms. 

But  miss'd  the  mignonette  of  Vivian- 
place, 

The  little  hearth-flower  Lilia.    Thus 
he  spoke. 

Part  banter,  part  affection. 

"  True,"  she  said, 

"  Wo  doubt  not  that.  O  yes,  you  miss'd 
us  much. 

I  *11  stake  my  ruby  ring  upon  it  you 
did."  ' 

She  held  it  out;   and  as  a  parrot 

turns 
Up  thro'  gilt  wires  a  crafty  loving  eye. 
And  takes  a  lady's  linger  with  idf  care, 
And  bites  it  for  true  heart  and  not  for 

harm. 
So    he    with    Lilia's.     Daintily  she 

shriek'd  ' 

And  wrung  it.      "Doubt    my  word 

again  ! "  he  said. 
"  Come,  listen  I  here  is  proof  that  you 

were  miss'd : 
Wo  seven  stay'd  at  Christmas  up  to 

read; 
And  there  we  took  one  tutor  as  to  read; 
The  hard-giain'd  Muses  of  the  cube 

and  square 
Were  out  of  season:   never  man,  I 

think. 
So  moulder'd  in  a  sinecure  as  he  : 
For  while  our  cloisters  echo'd  frosty 

feet, 
And  our  long  walks  were  stript  as  bare 

as  brooms, 
We  did  but  talk  you  over,  pledge  you 

all 
In  wassail ;  often,  like  as  many  girls- 
Sick  for  the  hollies  and  the  yows  of 

home  — 
As  many  little  trifling  Lilias  —  plavM 
Charades  and  riddles  as  at  Christmas 

here. 
And  tokaVs  my  thonrjht  and  when  and 

where  and  Afttr, 
And  often  told  a  tale  from  mouth  to 

mouth 
As  here  at  Christmas." 

She  remember'd  that* 
A  pleasant  game,  she  thought :  she 

liked  it  more 
Than  magic  music,  forfeits,  all  the 

rest. 
But  these— what  kind  of  tales  did  men 

tell  men. 
She  wonder'd,  b^  IhemscVrt'!*'*. 


TnE  PPjyCESS  :  A  MEDLLY. 


A  luar-dladsln 


pBKliM  mi  ilio  poutfd 

Uowi 

a  of 

And  Wnllar 
ThB  teit  wo 

Chimtroi.  c; 

Tlmobj-lUB 
Tlio  lyratit !_ 

lortded  Mmei 

M  follow,  OBCh 

HTfntoW  .loiy 

i 

SJ^t.. 

Chrlnn 

u  « 

nuida 

re  in  »l 
illl  blm 

luUie 

l^m 

From  II 

To  glTo  lu  brcaUUng-ipice." 
Inii  tlio  rest  Tollaw'd  :  uulUicB 

O    lOUghCZ    TOi«I   o 

«o(ilic*liut= 


Uke  I  in 


Il«mli 


Ilea  bene 


Wallerwarp'ilhU month  Willis 
To  •onaUilnff  io  ioock4oluiuii,  tliai  I 

Uugli'd. 
Axd  Ullii  woko  vrith  suddeD-nbriUing 

mlrtb 
AnaeholIkD  n pboatlT  wDOlpackFr. 
Hid  in  U)B   luliia :    tlU   Iha   luaiJen 
(A  lltOe  ieniB  of  wrong  bad  loucb'il 
TVltli  eoloT)  tnrn'd  to  mo  with  "M 

irorola  ft  you  wiil,  or  whnt  you  will. 
Or  bByoimall  your  bero  it  you  will," 

"Take    I.llla.   (hen,   tor  horoina" 

"And  rottkeber  some  great  rrinccas. 

ill  feet  blgb. 
fliana,  Bplo,  bomicIJEl ;  nnd  bo  you 
TbBPrfnff'--  ■ 


"Tben  lollon 
'and'y. 


:b  1)0  hen 
c,  lilio  i 


B,  tlio  1 


Herolo  s 


■    PllUf 


But  Hmetlilng  mada  to  suit  wllb  Tlm< 

«id  place, 
A  GnUilo  mill  and  a  Grecian  hnntn. 
A  talk  nt  colloae  and  o[  ladles'  ligliW, 
A  feudal  knight  In  silken  niBRqiierode 

Tor  wbleb  the  gnod  Sir  Eolph  bad 

Tlili  nvrn  a  medley  1  we  should  havo 

blm  bark 
\lTio  told  tile  ■  Winter's  tale "  lo  do  it 

for  UB. 
No  nianer  ;   we  will    say  wliatever 


3  ladlEi  sing  u 


(  Ibey 


«nd  beie  1 


nfas 


igl-b^  ol  3 


1,  blae-eyeil,  and  Wrr 
I    Uio  Cut 


Ot  Icm 

Wtih  leiigilik  ot  yellow  ri; 
Foe  on  my  tmdle  ehono  ilia  Korl 
There  llveil  an  ancient  legend  li 
afnr-oll  g; 


el  re  burnt 
UBO  I.e  caat  i 


KyinE,  t 


Eluidow,  had  Ir 
ot   nil    our  bli 


Should  ec 


lo  fan. 


■om  the  snbii lance 
iSgbtnilliBliadan 
:  »sld.  the  s' 


ad,  truly,  waking  dreJiaia  were,  more 

a  old  and  itrange  aOection  of  Ibe 

Myaolf  loo  bail  weird  ael^urcB,  Hearea 

On  a  sodden  In  Uie  midst  of  men  lud 

And  wblle'i  walk'd  and  lalk'd  aabeco- 

tofore, 
I  Bcom'd  to  mOTo  among  ft  world  ot 

And  feel  myself  Uio  shadow  ot    s 

Our  great  eonrt-Galen  poleed  hla  gill- 

And  pow'd  blB  beard,  wid   mullat'd 
"  caUlepsj." 
her  pitying  mado  a  tliou»Ud 


™J,'S' 


I^affi^-a'oi 
ciouBwai  her  tact  and  lemlei 
r  good  father  tliought  a  king  i 
red  not  for  l^a  allcctioti  of  Itaa 
1  hiB sceptre  Ilk e  a  pedant's  1 


ibe 
For  Judgnii 


.  loug  ai 
i  oCenden  tnaa   J 


TUE  PRINCESS :  A  MEDLEY. 


139 


Kow  it  chanced  that  I  had  been. 
While  life  was  yet  in  bad  and  bladB» 

betroth'd 
To  one,  a  neighboring  Pxlncess :  die 

tome 
Was  proxy  -  wedded  with  a  bootless 

calf 
At  eight  years  old ;  and  still  from  time 

to  time 
Came  murmurs  of  her  beauty  from  the 

South, 
And  of  her  brethren,  youths  Of  puis- 
sance; 
And  still  I  wore  her  picture  by  my 

heart, 
And  one  dark  tress  ;  and  all  around 

them  both 
Sweet  thoughts  would  swarm  as  bees 

about  their  queen. 

But  when  the  days  drew  nigh  that  I 

should  wed, 
My  father  sent  ambassadors  with  furs 
And  jewels,  gifts,  to  fetch  her  :  these 

brought  back 
A  present,  a  great  labor  of  the  loom ; 
And  therewithal  an  answer  vague  as 

wind : 
Besides,  they  saw  the  king  ;  he  took 

the  gifts ; 
He  said  there  was  a  compact ;  that  was 

true : 
But  then  she  had  a  will ;  was  he  to 

blame  ? 
And  maiden  fancies;   loved  to  live 

alone 
Among  her  women;  certain,  would 

not  wed. 

That  morning  in  the  presence  room 

I  stood 
With  Cyril  and  with  Florian,  my  two 

friends : 
The  first,  a  gentleman    of    broken 

means 
(His  father's  fault)  but  given  to  starts 

and  bursts 
Of  revel ;  and  the  last,  my  other  heart, 
Imost  n: 

moved 


And  almost  my  half-seli,  for  still  wo 


1?; 


Together,  twinn*d  as  horse's  ear  and 
eye. 

Kow^  while  they  spake,  I  saw  my 

father's  face 
Grow  long  and  troubled  like  a  rising 

moon, 
Inflamed  with  wrath;  he  started  on 

his  feet, 
Tore  the  king's  letter,  snow'd  it  down, 

and  rent 
The  wonder  of  the  loom  thro'  warp 

and  woof 
From  skirt  to  skirt ;  and  at  the  last  he 

Bware 
That  he  would  send  a  hundred  thou. 

sand  men, 
And  bring  her  in  a  whirlwind :  then 

he  chew'd 
The  thrice-tnm'd  cud  of  wrath,  and 

cook'd  his  spleen. 


Communing  with  his  captains  of  the 
war. 

At  last  I  spoke.    *'  My  father,  let  me 

go. 
It  cannot  be  but  some  gross  error  lies 
In  this  report,  this  answer  of  a  king, 
Whom  all  men  rate  as  kind  and  hospi- 

table : 
Or,  maybe,  I  myself,  my  bride  once 

seen, 
Whate'er  my  grief  to  find  her  less  than 

fame. 
May  rue  the  bai^ain  made."  And  Flo- 

rian  eaia : 
'*  I  have  a  sister  at  the  foreign  court, 
Who  moves  about  the  Princess ;  she, 

you  know. 
Who  wedded  with  a  nobleman  from 

thence : 
He,  dying  lately,  left  her,  as  I  hear, 
The  lady  of  three  castles  in  that  land  : 
Thro'  her  this  matter  might  be  sifted 

clean." 
And  Cyril  whisper'd :  "  Take  me  with 

you  too." 
Then  laughing  **  what,  if  these  weird 

seizures  come 
Upon  you  in  those  lands,  and  no  one 

near 
To  point  you  out  the  shadow  from  the 

truth! 
Take  me :  I'll  serve  you  better  in  a 

strait ; 
I  grate  on  rusty  hinges  here : "  but 

"No!" 
Roar'd  the  rough  king,  "you  shall  not; 

we  ourself 
Will  crush  hrer  pretty  maiden  fancies 

dead 
In  iron  gauntlets  :  break  the  council 

up." 

But  when  the  council  broke,  I  rose 

and  past 
Thro'  the  wild  woods  that  hung  about 

the  town ; 
Found  a  still  place,  and  pluck'd  her 

likeness  out ; 
Laid  it  on  flowers,  and  watch'd  it  lying 

bathed 
In  the  green  gleam  of  dewy-tassell'd 

trees : 
What  were  those  fancies  ?  wherefore 

break  her  troth? 
Proud  look'd  the  lips :  but  while  I 

meditated 
A  wind  arose   and  rush'd   upon  the 

South, 
And  shook  the  songs,  the  whispers, 

and  the  shrieks 
Of  the  wild  woods  together  ;   and  a 

Voice 
Went  with  it,  *'  Follow,  follow,  thou 

Shalt  win." 

Then,  ere  the  silver  sickle  of  that 
month 
Became  her  golden  shield,  I  stole  from 
court 


Willi  llol    from   tone  ^sy-vLnliaw 

«1iHka  the  nlRht; 
But  lU  was  quiet :  Icom  ihe  baatloiiM 

walls 
lika  tlireadeil  spidora,  oiie  liy  oue,  we 

Aud  IlyliiK  reocli'd  Hid  froatier  ;  tlien 

ToaltTeUerlandi  and  no  by  liltb  aiid 

And  Tlnei,  ami  blowlug  bmlii  of  wll- 

^0  Ealii'd  tJio  'iiiother*lty  thick  with 

Uuil  111  the  Imperial  palace  found  tbe 
S  king, 

BU  niTDB  WBi  Qama:  cmck'd  and 
■mall  his  rnlc«, 

Snt  bluid  the  amlla  that  llko  a  wrink- 
ling wind 

On  glaity  water  dnne  Lit  cheek   In 

A  lltde  dry  o\d  man,  without  a  Etar, 
Sot  like  a  king  :  tinea  duyu  he  [eailed 


Ll"1imror!''Vo'iem< 


Long  auinmen  back,  a  kind  ot 

I  Uilnk  the  year  in  which  our  c 

fall'd, 
I  would  ynii  had  her,  Prince,  wit 

■With  my  full  heart :  but  there 

wldewi  here. 
Two    widows.    Lady    Psycho,    Lady 

Blanche ; 
Tb«7  fed  her  theorin,  in  and  o 

Maintaining  that  wllh  equal  tin 

^  ^'^  ,.    .V 

ThB  woman  were  an  equsl  to  the 
They  liarp'il  <">  Uili ;  with  this  om 

quats  rang ; 
Our  donees  broke  and  bau'd  in 


To  hear    Oitm  :    knowledge,   i 


»  awful,  nue,  to  wluU  Ibej  taiaMt 
It  all  she  Is  and  does  la  awful :  nte* 

lid  dismal  lyriea.  prnnheaytng  c^bangt 
dyoud  nil  RHOii  1    thede  tlie  wodbu 

lid  lliey  Ihat  know  aneb  thlogs— 1 

j?y  mastered  mo.    At  last  ahe  begg'^l 
certain  auiame^palaco  which  1  ha^i 


Not  ev'n 

ec  brolher 

Arac, 

nor  the 

Bor  brethren,  Iho-  (hey  love  li 
Pardon  me  saying  it)  were  mu 

er.  look 
chloalb 

Diapule  betwixt  myself  and  n 
(And  I  «ontet«  with  right)  y 


can  give  you  leltera  W 


And  yet,  to  speak  the  trui 

Almost  Dt  naked  nothing 

■il 

And  I,  Iho'  nettled  that 

^Vlth  gamiloua  eaae  am)  oil 

Bat  chaflng  me   on  fire  1 

bride) 
'Went  forth  analn  with  both 

Many  a  lona  league  back  to 


B  the  kini 


We  dropt  with   e 


ning  o 


:  tliey  most  lose  the  child, 
:  then,  Sir,  awtul  odes  >1 


enter'd  nii    bid   hostel,  eall'j 
mine  host 
ncil,  piled  him  with  Ills  richesl 

ow'd  Ihs  lal«-wtlt  lettois  of  Uio 

king. 

1th  8  long  low  slbllation.  siarrt 
ik  as  death  In  marble  ;  then  e>- 
olnim'd 
ng it tvos clear i^aluf tall  nil« 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


141 


For  any  man  to  go  :  bat  aa  his  brain 
Bcigan  to  mellow,  **  If  the  king,*'  he 

Klid, 

**  Had  given  us  letters,  was  he  bound 

to  speak? 
The  king  would  bear  him  out ; "  and  at 

the  last— 
Hie  summer  of  the  Tine  in  all  his 

veins  — 
"No  doubt  that  we  might  make  it 

worth  his  while. 
She  once  had  past  that  way  ;  he  heard 

her  speak ; 
She  scared  him ;  life !  he  never  saw 

the  like ; 
She  look'd  as  grand  as  doomsday  and 

as  grave  : 
And  he,  he  reverenced  his  liege-lady 

there  ; 
He  always  made  a  point  to  post  with 

mares ; 
His  daughter  and  his  housemaid  were 

uie  boys : 
Tlie  land,  he  imderstood,  for  miles 

about 
Was  tiird  by  women ;  all  the  swine 

were  sows. 
And  all  the  dogs  " — 

But  while  he  jested  Ihus, 
A  thought  flash'd  thro'  me  which  I 

clothed  in  act, 
Bemembering  how  we  three  presented 

Maid 
Or  Nymph,  or  Goddess,  at  high  tide  of 

feast, 
In  masque  or  pageant  at  my  father's 

court. 
TVe  sent  mine  host  to  purchase  female 

gear: 
Ue  brought  it,  and  himself,  a  sight  to 

shake 
The  midriff  of  despair  with  laughter, 

holp 
To  lace  us  up,  till,  each,  in  maiden 

Slumes 
Bd :  him  we  gave  a  costly  bribe 
To  guerdon  silence,  mounted  our  good 

steeds, 
And  boldly  ventured  on  the  liberties. 

We  follow*d  up  the  river  as  we  rode, 
And  rode  till  midnight  when  the  col- 
lege lights 
B^an  to  glitter  Arefly-like  in  copse 
And  linden  alley :  then  we  past  an 

arch. 
Whereon  a  woman -statue  rose  with 

wings 
From  four  wing'd  horses  dark  against 

the  stars ; 
And  some  inscription  ran  along  the 

front, 
But  deep  in  shadow :  further  on  wo 

gain*d 
A  Uttle  street  half  garden  and  half 

house; 
Bat  scarce  eould  hear  each  other  speak 

for  noise 
Of  clock  and  chimes,  like  silver  ham- 

mer3  fallins 


On  silver  anvils,  and  the  splash  and 
stir 

Of  fountains  spouted  up  and  showering 
down 

In  meshes  of  the  jasmine  and  the  rose: 

And  all  about  us  peal'd  the  nightin- 
gale, 

Ilapt  in  her  song,  and  careless  of  the 
snare. 

There  stood  a  bust  of  Pallas  for  a 

sign. 
By  two  sphere  lamps  blazon'd  like 

Heaven  and  Earth 
With  constellation  and  with  continent, 
Above  an  entry :  riding  in,  we  caird  : 
A  plump-arm'd  Ostleress  and  a  stable 

wench 
Came  running  at  the  call,  and  help*d 

us  down. 
Then  stept  a  buxom  hostess  forth,  zz\t\. 

sail'd. 
Full  -  blown,   before    us  into  rooms 

which  cave 
Upon  a  pillar'd  porch,  the  bases  lost 
In  laurel :  her  we  ask'd  of  that  and 

this, 
And  who  were  tutors.  "  Lady  Blanche** 

she  said, 
"  And  Lady  Psyche.**    "  Which  was 

prettiest, 
Best-natured  ?  '*      **  Lady  Psyche.** 

"  Hers  are  we,'* 
One  voice,  we  cried ;   and  I  sat  down 

and  wrote, 
In  such  a  hand  as  when  a  field  of  com 
Bows  all  its  ears  before  the  roaring 

East; 

"  Three  ladles  of  the  Northern  em- 
pire pray 

Your  Highness  would  enroll  them  with 
your  own. 

As  Lady  Psyche's  pupils.** 

This  I  seal'd : 

The  seal  was  Cupid  bent  above  a 
scroll^ 

And  o'er  his  head  TJranion  Venus 
hunc, 

And  raised  the  blinding  bandage  from 
his  eyes : 

I  gave  the  letter  to  be  sent  with  dawn; 

And  then  to  bed,  where  hcif  in  doze  I 
seem'd 

To  float  about  a  glimmering  night,  and 
watch 

A  full  sea  glazed  with  muflled  moon- 
light, swell 

On  some  dark  shore  just  seen  that  it 
was  rich. 


As  thro*  the  land  at  eve  we  went, 
And  pluck'd  the  ripen'd  eait). 

We  fell  out,  my  wife  and  I. 

O  we  fell  out  I  know  not  why. 
And  kiss'd  again  with  tears. 

And  blessings  on  the  falling  out 
That  all  the  more  endears. 

When  we  fall  out  with  those  we  Inrp 


THE  PRINCESS :  A  MEDLEY. 


And  tin  igaln  with  Icon  I 


Wa  klM'd  Dgitlu  irltli  lean. 


At  IireBlc  of  da;  Uie  Colloge  Portress 


The  111 


B  lu  rich  u  motbg  tram  i 
Li'taeyliig  LcrDbelHUire,  le 
I  Ida  waited:  oatn-epn 


AH  rotuid  Bllh  fiiBrel,  tsn 
CompBcC  with  lueld  luiL 

Willi  lengths 
Of  clusle  f  rlsie,  vlUi  ui 

Betwlit^'SiB  plTlara.  and 
nma  of  Ilowevn. 

The  Unxea  oiid  the  tirade 
throes, 

Sorine'd  a  blUowlns  foa 
-'■'at; 

Hnd  theie  on  : 


There  at  aboaid  by  lomo  and  pi 
„  eat, 

With  two  tAme  leoparda  izouchM  be 

her  UiroiiB 
All  beanty  tuiupnsa'd  in  n  famale  t' 
The  PiliiDoBB  ;  Itker  to  tlie  luhablu 

a  ^t^ew  p      a    r  O50  u 

n  ouc  man's  earth  ;  irath  ejea  i 

111  her  head, 
1  Bo  much  grace  and  power*  brc 

m  over   her  arch'd  bron-e.   ' 

UmdOito-XrlQlhe  tips  o£  lior 


s  round 
ipvrtth 


\/- 


^ !  are  iJia  ladies  of  your 
U117'' 
"WooIthocourfsaldCyril.  ' 


ler'd,  _■'  then  ya  know  tha 
run  of  his  age  1  oa  tho'  Ibtn 
■Id.  your  High 
'  -.  ahHTflplie*: 


Ho  worrfitpB  yoar  Ideal 
"  We  irarr«ly  thought 


-DhaU 
unong 

light  coin,  tho  tiiiBBl  clink  of  eompli- 
Your  fll^t  from  out  jont  booklaM 
As  arguing  loye  of  Iniowledga  and  of 
Vour  laiiEuage  proves  you  itUl  ilia 
Wo  dream  tiot  eC  him  :  whsn  we  get 
To  this  great  work,  we  purposed  wlUi 
KcTer  to  wed.  Ton  UhowiBs  will  do 
Ladles,  lii  enterhia  hero,  to 

The  tiirkB.  which  moke  us  tova  uf  mi-n 

that  BO,  ■^  ^ 

Somo  tutjiro  Ume,  if   so  indeed   yon 

Yon  may  with  than  eeltHttyled  ou 

Your  fortunes,  {ualUer  baluiced,  ualfl 

with  ica^." 

At  those  Liah  words,  we  coQBcioiu  g( 


( 


Hose  up.  and  re 


^r  height, 
t  without 


I  correspond  with 

0  cross  the  llher- 

lo  speak  with  anjr 

iich  hastily  sub- 

ihe  boards :  and  "Xow" 

Eraeii  wood,  see  ye  waip  not. 
— '-  —hall  I 

of  tboBe  that  men 


Look 


e  Sabine  bow  to  rule. 

The  fDUiidtHs  ot  tho  Babylonian  mlL 
Thu  farian  Artemisia  sttona  111  war. 
The  lUiodnpe.  tlut  huitc  the  nynimlil, 
rlelia.  Cornelia,  wltli  Ibe  filmmM 
That  f  ought  Anrellan,  and  the  BmdUI 

Ot  Agiiapiiia.    Dwell'willi  Ui«e,  ind 

Conyenttoii,  slnca   to   looli  on  uobU 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


148 


ltak€8  noble  thro'  the  lexuiaoiis  orgaiu 
ism 

That  which  is  higher.    O  lift  your  na- 
tures up : 

Embrace  our  aims:    work  out  your 
freedom.    GirlSt 

Knowledge  is  now  no  more  a  fountain 
s^*d : 

Drink  deep,  until  the  habits  of  the 
slave, 

The  sins  of  emptiness,  gossip  and  spite 

And  slander,  die.   Better  not  be  at  all 

Thau  not  be  noble.    Leave  us:   you 
may  go  : 

To-day  the  I^y  Psycho  will  harangue 

The  fresh  arrivala  of  the  week  before ; 

For  thev  press  i!i  from  all  the  prov- 
inces. 

And  fill  th«  hive." 

She  spoke,  and  bowing  waved 

Dismissal:   back  again  we  croet  the 
court 

To  Lady  Psvche's :  as  we  enter'd  in. 

There  sat  along  the  forms,  like  morn- 
ing doves 

That  sun  their  milky  bosoms  on  the 
thatch, 

A  patient  range  of  pupils ;  she  herself 

Erect  behind  a  desk  of  satin-wood, 

A  quick  brunette,  well-moulded,  fal- 
con-eyed. 

And  on  the  hither  side,   or  so  she 
look'd. 

Of  twenty  summers.    At  her  left,  a 
child. 

In  8hininffdrai>erie8,  headed  like  a  star, 

Her  maiden  babe,  a  double  April  old, 

AglaXa    slept,     we    sat:    the    Lady 
glanced  : 

Then  FK>rian;  but  no  livelier  than  the 
dame 

That  whisperM  '*  Asses'  ears  "  among 
the  sedge. 

*  My  sister."  ••  Comely  too  by  all  that's 
fair" 

BaidCyiil.    "  O  hush,  hush  1 "  and  she 
began. 

<«  This  world  was  once  a  fluid  haze 

of  light. 
Till  toward  the  centre  set  the  starry 

tides. 
And  eddied  into  suns,  that  wheeling 

cast 
The  planets :  then  the  monster,  then 

the  man; 
Tattoo'd  or    woaded,  winter-clod  in 

skins. 
Haw  from  the  prime,  and   crushing 

down  his  mate ; 
As  yet  we  find  in  barbarous  isles,  and 

here 
/,mn«g  the  lowest." 

Thereupon  she  took 
A  bird's-eye- view  of  all  the  ungracious 

past : 
Qlancedat  the  iM^endanr  Amazon 
As  emblematic  of  a  nobler  age ; 
Appraised  the  Lycian  custom,  spoke 

of  those 


That  lay  at  wine  with  Lar  and  Lucumo ; 
liau  down  the  Persian,  Grecian,  lto> 

roan  lines 
Of  empire,  and  the  woman's  state  in 

each, 
How  far  from  just;  till  warming  with 

her  theme 
She  ful  mined  out  her  scorn  of  law 

Salique 
And  little-footed  China,   touch'd  on 

Mahomet 
With  much  contempt,  and  came  to 

chivalry  : 
When  some  respect,  however  slight, 

was  paid 
To  woman,  superstition  all  awry : 
However  Uien  commenced  the  dawn  : 

abeam 
Had  slanted  forward,  falling  in  a  land 
Of  promise  ;  fruit  would  follow.  Deep, 

indeed. 
Their  debt  of  thanks  to  her  who  first 

had  dared 
To  leap  the  rotten  pales  of  prejudice, 
Disyoke  their  necks  from  cuutom,  and 

assert 
None  lordlier  than  themselves  but  that 

which  made 
Woman  and  man.    She  had  founded ; 

they  must  build. 
Here  might  they  learn  whatever  men 

were  taught : 
Let  them  not  fear:   some  said  their 

heads  were  less : 
Some  men's  were  small ;  not  they  the 

least  of  men  ; 
For  often  fineness  compensated  size : 
Besides  the  brain  was  like  the  hand, 

and  grew 
With  using ;  thence  the  man's,  if  more 

was  more ; 
He  took  advantage  of  his  strength  to 

be 
First  in  the  field :  some  ages  had  been 

lost; 
But  woman  ripen'd  earlier,  and  her  life 
Was  longer ;  and  albeit  their  glorious 

names 
Were  fewer,  scatter' d  stars,  yet  since 

in  truth 
The  highest  is  the  measure  of  the  man. 
And  not  the  Kaffir,  Hottentot,  Malay, 
Nor  those  horn-handed  breakers  of  the 

glebe, 
But  Homer,  Plato,  Verulam ;  even  so 
With  woman  :  and  in  arts  of  govern- 
ment 
Elizabeth  and  others ;  arts  of  war 
The  peasant  Joan  and  others ;  arts  of 

grace 
Sappho  and  others  vied  with  any  man : 
And,  last  not  least,  she  who  had  left 

her  place. 
And  bow'd  her  state  to  them,  that  they 

mieht  grow 
To  use  and  power  on  this  Oasis,  lapt 
In  the  arms  of  leisure,  sacred  from  the 

blight 
Of  ancient Infiueno^  a&dttaoxik. 


h 


m 


THE.  PniNCESS!  A  31EDLEY. 


■a  Iwiide  the 

ITwo  In  ilie  Ungled  liueiiieu  of   the 

Two  in  tbe  tlberal  oilicea  of  lite, 

Two  plummBU  dropt  fur  une  to  aoiind 

Of  idence,   Bud  tiie   KCKtl  of  the 

UiulclBii,    palDter,    nuJptoi,    ciltlc, 

And  BTBtvwhero  tJiobroadand  boun- 

leuM  Eanli 
ShouliI  bear  a  duuble  growlh  of  Ihoge 

f  oets,  who^s  tboughti  oniicb  the  blood 

She  cndeil  boro,  and  beOcou'd  us ; 

Parted  ;  mil,  plowing  (ull-lMcd  wel- 

Benn  to  iHldtEBS  Bi.ftniJwaaino¥Jngon 
m  ««lul»tl(.il.  till  M  wlien  ■  boat 
TackB,  HUd  tbe  ulaokeu'd  eUl  Usps,  all 

FaltflrinK  aiid  fintlerlug  lu  her  throat, 

"  My  brotJier  I "    "  Well,  mj  Elster." 

"  TVluil  do  you  liero  1"  and  In  thta  dtaw? 

■Why  who  are  tlieie  ?  >  woll  wUUlii  the 

A  pack  of  wolVBA !  the  Lonl  bo  ^n^ 

Anlot,  a  plot,  a  plot,  to  rain  alt  I" 
"  Ko  plot,  no   plot,"   he   auewef'd. 
"  wretched  boy, 


"  And  It  I  bad"  ho  aniwet'd  "  who 
could  think 

O  liner,  SiieiH  Iho'  they  be,  waro  siich 
Ai  cliantiid  on  the  blauchlng  bones  of 

mcB  ?  " 
"  But  JFOU  will  find  It  othocwiM"  Bhe 

■Bid. 
■'  Ton  Jest :  111  Jesting  with  edga-ioola  1 

Blada  roe  to  ipeak,  and  O  (list  Iron 

win,      '^ 
ThBt  Bielike   iideo    untuntubte,    oni 

Head, 
Tie  Princess."  "  Well  than,  Psyche, 

lake  my  lite, 
And  tiBil  me  like  a  weoBel  on  a  eninge 
Por  warning ;  bury  ma  beside  Iba  gate. 
And  cat  this  eplUph  aboTS  my  bones  ; 


ceive   it; 


le   behold  Um 
,  for  beie  aht  ■ 


To  tlie  Lady  Ida  :  bei 
And  thus  (what  other  way  was  1 
"  O  Sir,  O  P'risce,  I  have  Iio  cou 
If  any.  this;  but  none.    WliaU 
Disrooted,  whBt  I  am  li  eraf  Inl  h 

Wilhlu   tblB    vestul    limit,    and    bow 

should  I. 
Who  ani  not  mine,  gay,  !iv»;  tbe  llii 

derbolt 
Hanga  silent  1  but  prepare;   I  speak | 

"  ret  panae."   I  naid  ; 

sarlptlon  there, 
I   think    no    iDore    of    deadly   ] 

therein.  _ 

Than  In  a  clapper  clapping  in  B  gnrllbfl 
To  scare  the  fowl  floni  fruit :  ll  m^3 

thare  be,  —^ 

If  more  and  acted  on,  what  toIlomQ 

Your  uwii  work  marr'd :   fo 

Acscleiiia. 
Wlilchevec  side  be  Victor.  In 
Will  topple  to  tbe  ItusipBt 

With  all  fair  theories  oni] 

A  slomileaa  aumipe-."   "  Tja  llin  P 

MMJudec  V 

Oflhafsbesaid:  ■■  farewell  Bli^-an*.  I 


liaildarat  tbeaeque 


"  Are  yon  that  lady  Psydui  " 

"  The   fuTi"!!.'  Una    from    that    ol> 

Florinn, 
Yet  hangs  hla  portrait  lu  my  tallier' 

(Tbe  gaunt  old  Barou  wlib  his  beett 

San-ebaded  in  the  heat  of  dusty  ttgblri 
As  lie  bestrode  my  (imudsira,  when  Iw 

And  all  else  fied  ;  wo  point  to 

Tbe  loyal  warmth  of  Florianl*notcnld..J 
But  branches  eurmnt  yet  fu  kli]df««J| 

"  Are  you  that  Psyche  "  Florian  addeAa 

With  whom  I  BBng  about  the  momlB 

una, 

Flung  hall,  flew  kite,  knd 

And  mared  the  iqnlml  of  tb*  £l«a  fl 

That  Psyche,  wnnt  to  bind  ny  It 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


145 


To  fmooth  my  pillow,  mix  the  foam- 
ing draught 
Of  fever,  tell  me  pleasant  tales,  and 

read 
ICy  sickness  down  to  happy  dreams  ? 

are  you 
That  brother -sister  Psyche,  both  in 

one? 
You  were  that  Psyche,  bnt  what  are 

you  now  ?  " 
••  You  are  that  Psyche,"  Cyril  said, 

"  for  whom 
I  would  be  that  for  ever  which  I  seem, 
Woman,  if  I  might  sit  beside  your  feet. 
And  glean  your  scatter'd  sapience." 

Then  onoe  more, 
**  Are  you  that  Lady  Psyche  "  I  began, 
**  That  on  her  bridal  mom  before  she 

past 
From  all  her  old  companions,  when 

the  king 
Kis8*d  her  pa^  cheek,  declared  that 

ancient  ties 
Would  still  be  dear  beyond  the  south- 
em  hills ; 
That  were  there  any  of  our  people  there 
In  want  or  peril,  there  was  one  to  hear 
And  help  them :  look !  for  such  are 

these  and  I." 
"  Are  you  that  Psyche  "  Florian  ask'd 

*'  to  whom, 
In  gentler  dayi,  your  arrow-wounded 

fawn 
Came  flying  while  you  sat  beside  the 

The  creature  laid  Ids  muzzle  on  your 

lap, 
And  Boblrd,  and  you  sobb'd  with  it, 

and  the  blood 
Was  sprinkled  on  your  kirtle,  and  you 

wept. 
That  was  fawn's  blood,  not  brother's, 


yet  you  wept. 
« br&:    ■      - 


O  by  tiie  bright  head  of  my  little  niece, 
Tou  were  uat  Psyche,  and  what  are 

you  now  ?  *' 
*<Yoa  are  that  Psyche"   Cyril  said 

ac^n, 
**  The  mother  of  the  sweetest  little 

maid. 
That  erer  crow'd  for  kisses." 

••  Out  upon  it ! " 
She  answer'd, "  peace !  and  why  should 

I  not  play 
nie  Spartan  Mower  with  emotion,  be 
The  Lucius  Junius  Brutus  of  mv  kind  ? 
Ulm  you  call  great :  he  for  the  com- 
mon weal, 
The  fading  politics  of  mortal  Home, 
As  I  mi j^t  slay  this  child,  if  good  need 

were.       • 
Slew  both  his  ions :  and  I,  shall  I,  on 

whcHn 
The  secular  emancipation  turns 
Of  hidf  this  world,  be  swerved  from 

ri^t  to  save 
A  prinoe,  a  brother?  a  little  will  I 

yield. 
Bart  fo.  perchance,  for  us,  and  Tell 

niiryon. 


O  hard,  when  love  and  duty  clash !  I 
fear 

My  conscience  will  not  count  me  fleck« 
less ;  yet  — 

Hear  my  conditions :  promise  (other- 
wise 

You  perish)  as  you  came,  to  slip  away, 

To-day,  to-morrow,  soon  :  it  shall  be 
said, 

These  women  were  too  barbarous, 
would  not  learn ; 

They  fled,  who  niiffht  have  shamed  us: 
promise,  aU.*' 


»* 


What  could  we  else,  wo  promised 

each  ;  and  she, 
Like  some  wild  creature  newly-caged, 

commenced 
At  to-and-fro,  so  pacing  till  she  paused 
By  Florian  ;  nol<ung  out  her  lily  arnu 
Took  both  ms  hands,  and  smiling  faint 

ly  said : 
*'  1  knew  you  at  the  first :  tho*  youhavo 

grown 
You  scarce  have  alter'd :  I  am  sad  and 

glad 
To  see  you,  Florian.    /  give  thee  to 

death 
My  brother !  it  was  duty  spoke,  not  I. 
My  needful  seeming  harshness,  pardon 

it. 
Our  mother,  is  she  well  ?  " 

With  tliat  she  kiss'd 
His  forehead,  then,  a  moment  after, 

clung 
About  him,  and  betwixt  them  bloa* 

som'd  up 
From  out  a  common  vein  of  memory 
Sweet  household  talk,  and  phrases  of 

the  hearth. 
And  far  allusion,  ull  the  gracious  dews 
Began  to  glisten  and  to  fall :  and  while 
They  stood,  so  rapt,  we  gazing,  came  a 

voice, 
"  I  brought  a  message  here  from  Lady 

Blanche." 
Back  started  she,  and  turning  round 

we  saw 
The  Lady  Blanche's  daughter  where 

she  stood, 
Melissa,  with  her  hand  upon  the  lock, 
A  rosy  blonde,  and  in  a  college  gown, 
That  clad  her  like  an  April  daffodilly 
(Her  mother's  color)  with  ner  lips  apar^ 
And  all  her  thoughts  as  fair  within  her 

eyes, 
As  bottom  agates  seen  to  wave  and 

float 
In  crystal  currents  of  clear  morning 

seas. 

So  stood  that  same  fair  creature  at 
the  door. 

Then  Lady  Psyche  <' Ah— Melissa  ~' 
you  ! 

You  heard  us  ?"  and  Melissa,  **  O  par- 
don me : 

I  heard,  I  could  not  help  it,  did  not 
wish: 

But,  dearest  Lady,  pray  you  fear  ma 
not, 


THE  PBiyCESSA  MEDLEY. 


irlMulil  beartluit  lie&rt  wltliln  m; 
I  giYfl  Utrea  gallant  eentlsmen  to 
[  trust  JCJU"  »^d  tlia  other  "foe  we 

Were  alwavj  friondB,  iions  clotor,  elm 

and  vine : 
Sut  yet  your  moUur'a  jealoui  temper- 
Let  not  your  prudoncc,  cJearetttj  dtowBe, 

The  Danal'd  of  a  leak  j  Taae,  lor  lesr 
TLtB  wbole  (ouiidattaii  rulii.  aiid  1  lose 

Bepllad  Meliasa  "  do—  T  vould  not  toll, 

No,  not  for  all  Aspnsla's  tlKveruess, 

'^''\,  iiot  to  auB^er,  Madam,  all  tlioAe 

hai'd  things 

lat  Sbeba  crunfi  to  flak  of  Solomon," 

Je  it  so"  the  other  "that  wa  BLlll 

\»  new  nght  up,  and  colmlnata  hi 

ir  Solomon  may  come  to  Sheba  yot." 
id  Cyril  ■'  MBifam,  he  the  wtMit  man 


ion  K  ue,  debtor!  (i 
lelf  far  aomethhit 

f'ThanlH,"  ahei 

have  been  tc 

Together :  keep  you: 

They  do  «o  that  nfTec 
Speik  little :  luli  u 

juidbold 
Yotir promise;  all,I 


child. 
And  held  her  round  the  lEnec*  agnlnit 

hlairalal,  [peler, 

1  blew  the  s«oll'n  eheek  of  n  tiiim- 
ilB  Psyche  wacCb'd  tUeni,  amlling. 


And  thUB  our  u>nlere 
ir  half  the  day  thro 


e  Frofeator.    On  the  lecture 
s  rounded  under  f  einiUe  bands 


Bj  violet-hooded  Tocti 


And  quoted  odes,  and  jewels  D< 
That  on  ths  streti^'d  forefinser  of 

TilUB  * 

SpaciUe  for  erer :  then  we  dipt  in 
That  treats  ot  wbalsoever  Is,  tliesle 
The  total  chronlclea  Dt  man,  Iba  mli 
Tlie  uiurule,  somethluii  aC  Uie  frau 

the  rock, 
The  Biar,  the  bird,  the  flib,  the  BhalL  . 

the  dower,  ^' 

Electrlo,  ehemlc  luwB,  and  all  the  rest, 
And   whatsoever   can  be   tongbC  uid 

TUl  like  tliree  ion^  that  hare  broken 

fenqe, 
And  glutted  nil  nlglit  long  hreaolHiBep 

Wo  issued  gorged  wIOi  knowledge,  and 

"  Why,  Sira,  tbey  do  nil  lUi. 

"They   hunt   old  trails-    said  Cyia 

Butwhemll/wo 


ar^etlnva 


No  n 


it  tnlk'd 


The  Iraali  that  made   mo  ^elc,  and 

almost  Bad  ■.'" 
"  O  trash  "  he  said  "  but  with  a  kernel 
Should  1  not  call  her  wise,  who 
And  learnt?  I  learnt  more  from  het 


Than  if 


Wltlime.Sir,entar'diiithebiMerliov.  ' 
The  Head  of  all  thagoldeii-rfiafted  hr" 
The  lung-llmb'd  lad  that  bad  a  Paye 


He  cleft  me  thro'  tlx 
^That  think  you  o£  II,  Fi( 


BtomAclier ;  and 


Ko  glioBtly  huntings  like  Wa  Hisll- 

Flntter  myself  that  always  ererywh 
1  know  the  BUbBtance  wbeu  I  see 

Well, 
Are  ciutlo  ehadowe  7  Throe  ot  tbei 

iBshe 
The  Bwect  proprietress  a  shadow  1 

Shall  tbuee  three  caBIleB  potcb  my  1 


\ 


TUE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


147 


JV>r  dear  ore  those  three  castlee  to  my 

wants, 
^nd  dear  is  sister  Psyche  to  my  heart, 
Aiid  two  dear  tliiugs  are  one  of  double 

worth. 
And  much  1  might  have  said,  but  that 

iny  zone 
TJnmanu'd  me :  then  the  Doctors  !    O 

to  hear 
The  Doctors !    O  to  watch  the  thirsty 

plants 
Imbibing !  ouce  or  twice  I  thought  to 

roar, 
To  break  my  chain,  to  shake  my  mane: 

but  thou, 
Modulate  me.  Soul  of  mincing  mim- 
icry 1 
Make  liquid  tremble  of  that  bassoon, 

my  throat ; 
Abase  those  eyes  that  ever  loved  to 

meet 
StarHBisters  answering  under  crescent 

brows ; 
Abate  the  stride,  which  speaks  of  man, 

and  loose 
A  flying  chami  of  blushes  o*er  this 

cheek, 
TVliere  they  like  swallows  coming  out 

of  time 
TTill  wonder  why  they  come  ;  but  hark 

the  bell 
For  dinner,  let  us  go ! " 

And  in  we  stream'd 
Among  the  columns,  pacing  staid  and 
•^still  »*'*^» 

By  twos  and  threes,  till  all  from  end 

to  end 
T^'ith  beauties  every  shade  of  brown 

and  fair 
Tn  colors  gayer  than  the  morning  mist, 
The  lonff  hall  glitter'd  like  a  bed  of 

flowers. 
How  might  a  mxm  not  wander  from 

Ids  wits 
Pierced  thro'  with  eyes,  but  that  I 

kept  mine  own 
Intent  on  her,  who  rapt  in  glorious 

dreams, 
The  second-sisht  of  some  Astrsean  age, 
Sat  compass'd  with  professors ;  they, 

the  while. 
Discussed  a  doubt  and  tost  it  to  and 

fro: 
A  clamor  thicken'd,  mizt  with  inmost 

terms 
Of  art  and  science:  Lady  Blanche 

alone 
Of  faded  form  and  haughtiest  linea- 
ments, 
With  all  her  autumn  tresses  falsely 

brown. 
Shot  sidelong  daggers  at  us,  a  tiger- 
cat 
In  act  to  spring. 

At  last  a  solemn  grace 
Concluded,  and  we  sought  the  gardens: 

tber« 
One  walk*d  xedting  by  herself,  and 

one 
In  this  hand  held  a  volume  as  to  read, 


And  smoothed  a  petted  peacock  down 

with  that : 
Some  to  a  low  song  oar'd  a  shallop  b}> 
Or  under  arches  of  the  marble  biidge 
Hung,  ^hadow'd  from  the  heat :  some 

hid  and  sought 
In  tho  orange  thickets  :  others  tost  a 

ball 
Above   the    fountain-jets,   oi.d  back 

again 
With  laughter  :  others  lay  about  the 

lawns. 
Of  tho  older  sort,  and  murmur*d  that 

their  Mav 
Was  passing :  what  was  learning  unto 

them? 
They  wish'd  to  marry ;  they  could  rule 

a  bouse  ; 
Men  hated  learned  women :  but  we 

three 
Sat  muflied  like  the  Fates  ;  and  often 

cnmo 
Melissa  hitting  all  we  saw  with  shafts 
Of  gentle  satire,  kin  to  charity. 
That  harm'd  not :  then  day  droopt ; 

the  chapel  bells 
CoU'd  us  :  we  left  the  walks  ;  we  mixt 

with  those 
Six  hundred  maidens  clad  in  purest 

white. 
Before  two  streams  of  light  from  wall 

to  wall. 
While  the  great  organ  almost  burst  his 

pipes, 
Groaniuff  for  power,  and  rolling  thro' 

the  court 
A  long  melodious  thunder  to  the  sound 
or  solemn  psalms,  and  silver  litanies. 
The  work  of  Ida,  to  call  down  from 

Heaven 
A  blessing  on  her  labors  for  the  world. 


Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low. 

Wind  of  the  western  sea. 
Low.  low.  breathe  and  blow. 

Wind  of  the  western  sea  1 
Over  the  rolling  waters  go, 
Come  from  the  dying  moon,  and  blow. 

Blow  him  aeain  to  me ; 
While  my  litUe  one,  while  my  pretty 
one,  sleeps. 

Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest, 
Father  will  come  to  thee  soon  ; 

Rest,  rest,  on  mother's  breast. 
Father  will  come  to  thee  soon : 

Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  the 
nest. 

Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  west 
Under  the  silver  moon  : 

Sleep,  my  little  one,  sleep,  my  pretty 
one,  sleep. 

ni. 

MottN  in  the  white  wake  of  the  mom* 

ing  star 
Came  furrowing  all  the  orleut  txvta 

cold. 


TUE  PRINCESS ;  A  MEDLEY. 


)rsriar, 


Idle  wa   Blood   betdde  thi 

nt.  Biiil  HOtfli'd 

□  wn  tell  tha  dancing  bubblD 

igad  Willi  wsn  Eroin  lack  o 

111  glowing  connd  her  dsw] 


Mjr  motaer  biiairi  :"  aadwhenlask'i 
"  My  fault "  rte  wept  ■'  my  fault  1  am 
Yat  mlnB  In  part.  O  heap  ine,  panloi 
Jrtj  molheir, ' t  la  bac  wont  from  nigLt  b 


iilgiit 


'  elde. 


But  Lady  Piycha  wM  the  ilgbl;  liiu 


Audeo  last  iiight  slie  tell  to  caiivosa 


wll2il]i  rej 


'  O  marvBllouBly  modest  maiden,  yi 
Meii  1  airli,  liSe  man  I  why,  1(  t: 

Vou  need  not  set  your  tliougbts  lu 


For  wlioleMle 

am  iban 
That  I  miui  oe 


:  lonka  so  little  snicetul :  '  men ' 

(Cor  Btlll 
""■ n  I  re*ol  vineontheword) 


Then  came  theee  d. 

o.ia  by  one, 
■  Why — theao— are— men 

dar'd:  'and  you  kn 
'Oask  menothlng,' I  iniJ  :  'Aj 


JB  truth  at  ones,  bat  with  no  word 
ad  uow  tliua  early  risen  she  goes  to 
IS  PrlncBBi:  Lady  Psychs  niU  b« 
It  you  may  yat  be  saved,  and  there- 
it  heal  mu  with  jonr  pardon  ere  you   j 


BO." 


"  What  pardon, 

bmah?" 

Said  Cyril;  "Pale 


iC  Mali 


mi«,"bBiter   blUBh  our  li' 
It  ud  breathe  for  one  hour  mi 
Idad,  "leet  some  elaaalc  Angal    I 
ni  oF  n>,  ■  they  mounted,  Gaoy- 


*ould  pi 


Flurlau  i_ 


■per. 


rell  a 


1  betirlxt  theiigbt 

'Olong  ago,"  she  Bald,  "  betwixt  i 

□Ivlilon  EiDOuldara  hUdeu  :  'tla  niy 
mother,  ' 

ilODs,  Often  fretful  as  the  n 


I  nemr  knew 
(Qud  help  b( 


myfo 


.  !lia 


le  rail-d  againat  the  state  of 

r.ndy  Iila'a  yonlb,      I 
een  d  decease  alia    I 


SheliadUni 

And   from    ._  _    . . 

Butwbeii  youi  lister  came  ahe  woo  Hw    I 


11  1ni(ether.  grew 


lO  they  aaid  thai 


liiHllthlnga :  yetmymolliei    ] 
iir  Piycbe  thieved  lier 


TUE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


143 


And  angled  vith  them  for  her  pupil's 

love : 
Slie  calls  her  plagiarist ;  I  know  not 

what: 
But  I  must  go:  I  dare  not  tazxy"  and 

light. 
Ab  flies  the  shadow  of  a  bird,  she  fled. 

OQien  murmur'd  Florian  gazing  after 

her. 
MAn  open-hearted  maiden,  true  and 

pure. 
If  I  could  love,  why  this  were  she : 

how  pretty 
Her  blushing  was,  and  how  she  blush'd 

agaiu, 
As  if  to  dose  with  CyriPs  random  wish: 
Kot  like  your  Princess  cramm'd  with 

erring  pride, 
Nor  like  poor  Psyche  whom  she  drags 

in  tow," 

"  The  crane,"  I  said,  **  may  chatter 

of  the  crane, 
The  dove  may  murmur  of  the  dove, 

but  I 
An  ea^le  clang  an  eagle  to  the  sphere. 
My  princess,  O  my  piincess !  true  she 

errs. 
Bat  in  her  own  grand  way :  being  her* 

self 
Three  times  more  noble  than  three- 
score of  men, 
She  sees  herself  in  every  woman  else. 
And  so  she  wears  her  error  like  a  crown 
To  blind  the  truth  and  me :  for  her, 

and  her, 
Hebes  are  they  to  hand  ambrosia,  mix 
The  nectar;  but — ah  she — whene'er 

she  moves 
The  Samian  Here  rises  and  she  speaks 
A  Memnon  smitten  with  the  morning 

Sun." 

So  saying  from  the  court  we  paced, 
and  gaiu'd 

rhe  terrace  ranged  along  the  Northern 
front, 

4nd  leaning  there  on  those  balusters, 
high 

Iboye    the    empurpled    champaign, 
drank  tlie  gale 

[hat  blown  about  the  foliage  under- 
neath, 

\nd  sated  with  the  innumerable  rose, 

leatbalm  upon  our  eyelids.    Hither 
came 

Jyiil,  and  yawning  **  O  hard  task,"  he 
cried ; 

'  No  fighting  shadows  here  I   I  forced 
away 

liro*    solid  opposition  crabb'd  and 
gnarVd. 

letter  to  clear  prime  forests,  heave 
and  thump 

L  league  of  street  in  summer  solstice 
down, 
hammer  at  this  reverend  gentle- 
woman. 


I  knock'd  and,  bidden,  enter'd ;  found 

her  there 
At  point  to  move,  and  settled  in  her 

eyes 
The  green  malignant  light  of  eomiiig 

storm. 
Sir,  I  was  courteous,  every  phrase  well- 

oil'd, 
As  man's  could  be ;  yet  maideh-meek 

I  pray'd 
Concealment :  she  demanded  who  we 

were. 
And  why  we  came  ?    I  fabled  nothing 

fair. 
But,  your  example  pilot,  told  her  all . 
Up  wont  the  hush'd  amaze  of  hand  and 

eye. 
But  when  I  dwelt  upon  your  old  affi- 
ance, 
She  answer'd  sharply  that  I  talk'd 

astray. 
I  urged  the  fierce  inscription  on  the 

gate, 
And  our  three  lives.    True— we  had 

limed  ouraelves 
With  open  eyes,  and  we  must  take  the 

chance. 
But  such  extremes,  I  told  her,  well 

might  harm 
The  woman's  cause,    '  Not  more  than 

now,'  she  said, 
'  So  puddled  as  it  is  with  favoritism.* 
I  tiled  the  mother's  heart.     Shame 

might  befall 
Melissa,  knowing,  sayingnot  she  knew: 
Her  answer  was  *  Leave  me  to  deal 

with  that.' 
I  spoke  of  war  to  come  and  many 

deaths, 
And  she  replied,  her  duty  was  to  speak. 
And  duty  duty,  clear  of  consequences. 
I  grew  discouraged,  Sir ;  but  since  £ 

knew 
No  rock  so  hard  but  that  a  little  wave 
May  beat  admission  in  a  thou&und 

years, 
I  recommenced ;  *  Decide  not  ere  you 

pause. 
I  find  you  here  but  in  the  second  place. 
Some  say  the   third  — the  authentic 

foundress  yod. 
I  offer  boldly:  we  will  seat  you  highest: 
Wink  at  our  advent :  help  my  prince 

to  gain 
His  rightful  bride,  and  here  I  promise 

you 
Some  palace  in  our  land,  where  you 

shall  reign 
The  head  and  heart  of  all  our  fair  she- 
world, 
And  your  great  name  flow  on  with 

broadening  time 
For  ever.'    Weil,  she  balanced  this  a 

little. 
And  told  me  she  would  answer  us  to- 
day. 
Meantime  be  mute :  thus  much,  noK 

more  I  gaiu'd." 

He  ceasing,  came  a  mesiaeo  fkom  the 
Head. 


rUE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


BvjoudllieUauk-leaved  platuu 
Agieed  to,  tills,  llie  day  fled  ot 


TUoii 


moidcnp,  lilgher  by  the 
aliut  a  plllui,  lier  foot  on 
iBlcopards.  SittenllkaliB 
ibout  hcT  BBiidaL    I  diev 


Her  nay-f urt'ii  cats  apaiiiioil  (aiitaay 
Her  college  and  liar  maWeui,  «u,pt; 

A]id  1  myBell  (ha  sLadow  of  a  dream, 
For  all  ttluga  were  aud  Here  not.  Ye 

Ifofi 
My  heart  beat  tlilck  with  posiion  aju 

Then  Irom  my  breaal  tha  iiivoluntar 

Blgh 
Brake,  bb  she  emati 

That  lent  rnvkueei 

■Iioo^ 
My  pulBCB,  I 
Wtut  forth 


IT  kiuE  expects— vae  tUere  no  pre- 
Thoro  1»    no  traer-hpnrtcd— ah,  yon 

Ls  preHguiBil,  and  lie  could  not 

TI19  blnl  ot^  puBafie  (ijiug  sootli  bal 

To  follow  :  surely,  if  your  Hlshuen 

Your  purport,  you  irfll  aliock  him  ey'n 
;  J  dealt, 
rbaaei  counieB,GMldienotdcBpai[," 

"Poor  boy"  Bhe  Baid**cau  La  not 

uolt,  tennla,  bnll^no  crnnifHi?  hot 
deals  In ' 


la  llglit 


Thei 


ultsi 


thine  sou  eav." 
"Jg»la?"B5iBerled,-'i 

From  lilm  to  me?  wa  g 

X  license ;  Bfieak,  and 


MelUiiiki 
At    girl- 


It  in,  martial  eier- 
.blind  ideal  likeagirl. 


ame ;  perhapa  hi 
I  dead  self,  uor 


,'1'5J'™ 


Upoi 


■i  (alVii  divin! 


At 


pedeBUl  w 

She  paused,  and  added  with  a.  lunal^ 
tier  BmilB 

Deck,  but  knoT  (mneK 
le  VoShti!  Snmi 


Shake; 


n  kiuB 


"Al»s  yonr  Hlehnes 

EBBt/'IUdd. 

"  On  tliftt  wMoU  leans  li 


.idcnicnUi  llie 
brcalhei  full 


To 


may  f^l ; 


gray  pra-GmlnflDce 

Iceiue  ;  inlgbt  I  uae  I 

halflw  done  patchance  your  1 

ceebleT  halresa  of  ff 

ndnilnB  nil ;  and  thus  your 

lake  that  footprint   upou 

Ilaunooih  10  nothing:  might  1  droad 
With  only  Fame'  foi 


■Which  o 


eand 


\ 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


151 


For  inae.  yet  may  live  in  Tain,  and 

miss, 
Meanwhile,  what  every  woman  counts 

her  due, 
Love,  (diildren,  happiness  ?  " 

And  she  exdaim'd, 
"  Peace,   you  youiic  savage  of  the 

Northern  wild ! 
What !  tho*  your  Prince's  love  were 

like  a  GocVs, 
Have  we  not  made  ourself  the  sacri- 
fice? 
Ton  are  bold  indeed :  we  are  not  talk'd 

to  thus: 
Yet  will  we  say  for  children,  would 

they  grew 
Like  fleld-nowers  everywhere  !  we  like 

them  well : 
But  children  die  :  and  let  me  tell  you, 

girl, 

Howe'er  you  babble,  great  deeds  can- 
not die ; 

They  with  the  sun  and  moon  renew 
their  light 

Forever,  blessing  those  that  look  on 
them. 

Children— that  men  may  pluck  them 
from  our  hearts, 

Kill  US  with  pity,  break  us  with  our- 
selves— . 

O  —  children— there  is  nothing  upon 
earth 

More  miserable  than  she  that  has  a  son 

And  sees  him  err :  nor  would  wo  work 
for  fame ; 

Tho*  she  perhaps  might  reap  the  ap- 
plause of  Great, 

Who  learns  the  one  pocr  sto  whence 
after-hands 

May  move  the  world,  tho'  she  herself 
effect 

But  little  :  wherefore  up  and  net,  nor 
shrink 

For  fear  our  solid  aim  bo  dissipated 

By  frail  successors.  Would,  indeed, 
we  had  been, 

In  lien  of  many  mortal  flies,  a  race 

Of  giants  living,  each,  a  thousand 
years, 

That  we  might  see  our  own  work  out, 
and  watch 

The  sandy  footprint  harden  into 
stone." 

I  answer'd  nothing,  doubtful  in  my- 
self 

If  that  stranffe  Poet-princess  with  her 
grana 

Imaginations  might  at  all  be  won. 

And  she  broke  out  interpretmg  my 
thoughts : 

'*No  doubt  we  seem  a  kind  of  mon- 
ster to  you ; 

We  are  used  to  that :  for  women,  up 
till  this 

Cnunp'd  under  worse  than  South-sea- 
isle  taboo, 

Dwarfs  of  the  gyneceum,  fail  so  far 

In  high  desire,  they  know  not,  camiot 
'guess 


How  much  their  welfare  is  a  pasiion 

to  us. 
If  we  could  give  them  surer,  quicker 

proot— 
Oh  if  our  end  were  less  achievable 
Bv  slow  approaches,  than  bv  single  act 
Of  immolation,  any  phase  oi  death. 
We  were  as  prompt  to  spring  agunst 

the  pikes. 
Or  down  the  fiery  gulf  as  talk  of  it. 
To  compass  our  dear  sisters*  liberties.'* 

She  bow'd  as  if  to  veil  a  noble  tear ; 
And  up  we  came  to  where  the  xiver 

sloped 
To  plunge  in  cataract,  shattering  on 

black  blocks 
A  breadth  of  thunder.    O'er  it  shook 

the  woods, 
And  danced   the   color,  and,   below, 

stuck  out 
The  bones  of  some  vast  bulk  that  lived 

and  roar'd 
Before  man  was.    She  gazed  awhile 

and  said, 
"As  these  rude  bones  to  us,  are  we  to  her 
That  will  be."    •*  Dare  we  dream  of 

that,"  I  ask'd, 
**  Which  wrought  us,  as  the  workman 

and  his  work. 
That  practice  betters?"  "How,"  she 

cried.  "  you  love 
The  metaphysics !  read  and  earn  oux 

prize, 
A  golden  broach  :  beneath  an  emerald 

plane 
Sits  Diotima.  teaching  him  that  died 
Of  hemlock  ;  our  device :  wrought  to 

the  life ; 
She  rapt  upon  her  subject,  he  on  her  : 
For  there  are  schools  for  all."    "  And 

yet"  I  said 
"  Methinks  I  have  not  found  among 

them  all 
One  anatomic."    "  Nay,  we  thought  of 

that," 
She  answer'd,  "  but  it  pleased  us  not  : 

in  truth 
We  shudder  but  to  dream  our  maids 

should  ape 
Those  monstrous  males  that  carve  the 

living  hound. 
And  cram  liim  with  the  fragments  of 

the  grave. 
Or  in  the  dark  dissolving  human  heart, 
And  holy  secrets  of  this  microcosm, 
Dabbling    a    shameless    hand    with 

shameful  ^est, 
Encamalize  their  spirits  :  yet  we  know 
Knowledge  is  knowledge,  and  this  mat- 
ter hangs : 
Howbeit  ourself,  forseeing  casualty. 
Nor  willing  men  should  come  among 

us,  learnt, 
For  many   weary   moons   before   we 

came. 
This  craft  of  healing.    Were  you  sick, 

ourself 
Would  tend  upon  you.    To  your  ques- 
tion now. 


WMch  toncliea  on  Die  iroTluiun  and 

bis  work. 
I*t  there  be  llglit  and  there  was  light ; 

Foe  mi,  uid'la.  and  will  bf .  are  bat  ia ; 

The  blrtb  of  Lslit ;  bat  we  that  are  not 

nil. 
Aa  parta,  can  Bee  bat  parts,  now  Ihlfl, 


And  tl 


I.  from 


tiou^t,  aiid  jnoke 


kbupe)  tbe 
ladow  will  wo  work,  imd 
;o  the  fuller  cla;." 


"STitli  kindled  eje«  :  wo  rode 
And,  o'er  a  brid^a  of  pinewo 


On  flowery  levelaiuidaTiieathUiccrag, 
rnll  of  all  beauty.     "O  howiweaf  1 

■aid 
(For  1  wae  helf-obllTlons  of  my  niaski 
'■  To  llnaar  here  wltb  ono  Uiat  loved 

fair  phlloa- 


'^M'\ 


That  lift  the  fsnirr  ;  for  Indei 

flelde 
a™  lovely,  loleller  not  the 

■Where  paio'd  the  Demlgoila  of 

Ths  soft  white  Tnpoc  BtiGBli  tti 

Duilt  to  the  Sun:"  lhen,tu 

"Pitch  oar  paVlllnn  hero   a 

Lay  o'" 

A  lent 
■Wi;h  ft 

Engirt  wttli   many  a  florid 

ronqnetor;  won 

Ibe  bearded  Victor  of   Um- 

And  alfSe  I'nen  moam'd  at 

Bet  forth  TO  oUmb ;   then,  . 

Cyril  kept 
With  Piteho,  with  MallEBH  Fl 
Wttli  mine  affiauced.    Mali] 

Glanced  like  a  lonib  of  ann 

the  rocka. 
Many  a  light  root  ahono  like  R 
lu  the  dark  eras  :  and  then  n 

Abont  the  ellffi.the  eopaea,  oi 


trachyte,  tin  th« 

jwazd  hla  death  aud 

come  out  above  Uw 


ie  eplendor  falle  on  cactle  walla 
And  auowy  aununita  oU  In  i 

'-"  'l  tie'w"  •""'" 


achoea,  djlHj, 


;7ai«. 

BioiiTbugli.Tlo-ir-eT----^'^-^-"'-"-'?- 

Uving, 
Blow,  bugle ;  answer 

dying,  dying. 

O  hark,  O  hear  I  how  thin  and  elenr, 

O  aweel  and  tar'f^''cil(r  Jnif^r"* 
The  honii  of  Elflond  falnlly  blow 

Blow,  lac  UB  hear  the  purple  gleiig  rt 

Blow,  bugR;    answer,  ocLoea,  djinB, 

dying,  dying. 
O  lore,  they  die  In  yon  rich  akr. 

They  faint  on  hill  or  Held  or  ri* 
Oar  eehoea  roll  from  soul  to  tnul 

Bh)w,  K.„._, , 

flying. 
And   anawer,  echoea, 

ilyiiig,  dying. 


If  that  liypothesi.  nf  ihelra  be  lound  " 
Si^d  Ida;  "lot  ua  dowu  and  teal;" 

Down  from  tho  lean  and  wrinkled  pn- 

By  eTery  coppiee-f  eatber'd  cluum  Mid 

Dropt  thro'  the  ambroalal   gloom   to 

Ko  biager  than  a  glow-worm  abona  tb> 

Lamp-ilt  ttoiD  the  Inner.    Ones  ■]» 

Deacendliig;  once  or  tnleeBhelenlhCrf 

hanif 
Andblleatul  palpltailona 
Stltriiig  a  sudden  tr«ui(( 
fill. 
But  when  ve  planted  level  feet  and 


ip  in  broJder'ii  dowa 


eaih  the  ui 

Out  elbowa  i  on  a  tripwl  In  Ihe  mldit 
A  fragrant  flame  Toao,  and  befor*  lU 

Fruit  ,l)lii»cai.Ttand,  amber  wine,  and 

gold, 
hen  she  "  _ 
Uahtlier  1 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


158 


nitt  minutes  fledged  with  mnsio : "  and 

anudd. 
Of  those  beside  her,  smote  her  harp, 

and  sang. 

*'  Tears,  idle  tears,  I  knofr  not  what 
they  mean. 
Tears  from  the  aepth  of  some  divine 


Bise 


despair 
in  the  1 


heart,  and  gather  to  the 

eyes. 
In  looking  on  the  happy  Autamn- 

flelds. 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no 

more* 

*<  Fresh  as  the  first  beam  glittering 

on  a  sail. 
Thai  brings  oar  friends  up  from  the 

underworld. 
Sad  as  the  last  which  reddens  over  one 
That  sinks  with  all  we  love  below  the 

verge ; 
So  sad,  so  fresh,  the  days  that  are  no 

more. 

**  Ah,  sad  and  strange  as  in  dark  sum- 
mer dawns 

The  earliest  pipe  of  half-awaken'd 
birds 

To  dying  ears,  when  unto  dying  eyes 

The  casement  slowly  grows  a  gummer- 
ing  square ; 

So  sad,  so  strange,  the  days  that  are 
no  more. 

"  I>ear  as  remeniber'd  kisses  after 

death. 
And  sweet  as  those  by  hopeless  fancy 

feign'd 
On  lips  that  are  for  others ;  deep  as 

love. 
Deep  as  first  love,  and  wild  with  all 

regret; 
O  Death  in  Life,  the  days  that  are  no 

no  more." 

She  ended  with  such  passion  that  the 

tear. 
She  sang  of.  Shook  and  fell,  an  erring 

pearl 
Lost  in  her  bosom :  but  with  some  dis- 
dain 
Aaswer'd  the  Princess   «If   indeed 

there  haunt 
About  the  rooulder'd  lodges  of  the  Past 
So  sweet  a  voice  and  vague,  fatal  to 

men, 
WaU  needs  it  we  should  cram  our  ears 

with  wool 
And  so  pace  by :  but  thine  are  fancies 

hatch'd 
In  silken-folded  idleness ;  nor  is  it 
Wiser  to  weep  a  tn  e  occasion  lost. 
But  trim  our  sails,  and  let  old  bygones 

be. 
While  down  tiie  streams  that  float  us 

each  and  all 
To  the  issue,  foes,  like  glittering  bergs 

of  ioe. 


Throne  after  throne,  and  molten  on 

the  waste 
Becomes  a  cloud :  for  all  things  serve 

their  time 
Toward  that  great  year  of  equal  mights 

and  rights, 
Nor  would  I  light  with  iron  laws,  in 

the  end 
Found  golden :  let  the  past  be  past ; 

let  be 
Their  cancell'd  Babels :  tho'  the  rougii 

kex  break 
The  starr'd   mosaic,  and  the  beard- 
blown  goat 
Hang  on  the  shaft,  and  the  wild  fig- 
tree  split 
Their  monstrous  idols,  care  not  while 

we  hear 
A  trumpet  in  the  distance  pealing 

news 
Of  better,  and  Hope,  a  poising  eagle, 

burns 
Above  the  unrisen  morrow : "  then  to 

me  ; 
•*  Know  you  no  soug  of  your  own  land," 

she  said, 
"  Not  such  as  moans  about  the  retro* 

spect. 
But  deals  ^ith  the  other  distance  and 

the  hues 
Of  promise ;  not  a  death*s-head  at  the 

wine." 

Then  I  remember'd  one  myself  had 

made. 
What  time  I   watch*d  the  swallow 

winging  south 
From  mine  own  land,  part  made  long 

since,  and  part 
Now  while  I  sang,  and  maidenlike  as 

far 
As  I  could  ape  their  treble,  did  I  sing. 

'*0  Swallow,  Swallow,  flying,  flying 

South, 
Fly  to  her,  and  fall  upon  her  gilded 

eaves, 
And  tell  her,  tell  her,  what  I  tell  to 

thee. 

''O  tell  her,   Swallow,  thou    that 

k  no  west  each. 
That  bright  and  fierce  and  fickle  is  the 

South, 
And  dark  and  true  and  tender  is  the 

North. 

<*0  Swallow,   Swallow,  if  I  could 

follow,  and  lisht 
Upon  her  lattice,  1  would  pipe  and 

trill, 
And  cheep  and  tv^tter  twenty  million 

loves. 

'*  O  were  I  thou  that  she  might  take 

me  in. 
And  lay  me  on  her  bosom,  and  her 

heart 
Would  rock  the  snowy  cradle  till  I  died. 

<*Why  Ihigereth  she  to  clothe  hex 
heart  w\tl\  love. 


-V 


154 


THE  PRINCESS. ■  A  MEDLEY. 


Delsyliifl  u  tha  tflndac  nah  delava 
TocruthelisrtBlf,  wlisutai  Ui«  wood) 
ate  aceeu  ? 
"O  tell  her,  Swallow,  that  thy  brood 

Sa;  to  her,  I  do  but  waiitou  in  (bo 

Siiuib, 
But  ill  thfl  Sorlb  long  lines  ray  neet  Is 

"  O  Ml  her,  brief  is  life  but  love  ia 
IniiB. 
AudbriertheBDii  oC  lammsr  In  the 

Kortb, 
And  brief  the  moon  of  beauty  In  the 
South. 
"  O  Swnllow,  flying  from  tho  golden 
Fly  to  her,  siid  pipe  niid  woo  her.  and 

And  tall  her,  tell  her,  tliat  1  follow 

thEe." 
I  ceoMcl,  and  all  the  ladiea,  each  at 

eaiih, 
LiltB  the  Ithacenaiaii  suitors  in   old 

Stared  with  groat  eyes,  and  laugh'd 

And  kiiBW*iio"  wSt  they  meant ;  for 

Hang  talao:    hut  smiling   "Nol  for 

IhGH,''  she  i,Bl(i, 
"  O  ^ulbul,  any  rose  of  Gulistan 
Shall  hurst  her  veil:  marsh -dlTom, 

Shall  eroak  thee  dgler,  or  tilie  laeHdon-- 

Orate  her  haisli  kindred  in  the  graaa : 

and  this 
A  mere  love-poem  I  0  lor  Buch.  my 

friend, 
We  hold  tliem  slight ;  Uiey  mind  ua  of 

'When   WB   matle    bricks    in    Eeypt< 

Tbatluto  and  flute  faiitsstia  tander- 

Alid  diBsi  thflvietirototheofterinEUp. 
And  paint  the  gated  of  Hell  with  Par' 

^harwueoy'es  blind 

Iloveaber.    Peace  be  with  her.     She 

is  dead. 
So  they  blaaplieme    the    muse  I    but 

UBed  10  great  ends  :  ounolf  have  ottan 

Vallijriaii  hymns, or  into  rhyllim  bave 

The  pOEslon   of  tho  prophetess ;  for 

or  spirit  than  to  junlwtiiie  BiidTore, 
Love  le  It?  Would  thla  same  mock- 


M>a-»„.n 

were 

Bid 

up  like  wlulei 

Till 

.il,-, 

■„ 

grew 

to 

rai«»s 

St  our 

lo 

•3 

to  bob 

^'hu" 

tVSf^ 

babfi 
wiiis, 

Whole  til  oiiraelveB  and  owedtouone. 

Enough  t 
But  not  to  leaTeii  play  with  profit, 
Know  you  no  Boiig,  the  true  growth  of 
That  gives  tho  mnnnem  of  your  oono- 


trywo 


u'd  her  Bomptno 


head  with 
Ot  BhiiiLiiii  eipectatlon  flxt  on  miiui. 
Then  while  1  drosg'd  niy  brKtos  la 

Cyril,   with   whom  tho  bell-mooth'd 

plaBB  had  wrought, 
OrmaBter'dbytheseiiBo  of  sport,  ba- 
To  troll  B  careless,  careless  tavem- 
Of  Moll  and  Meg,  and  Htranga  experi- 
Uumeet  for  laaes.  Floriaa  nodded  U 
I  frowning ;  pByehe  flogh'd  and  wann'A 

Tbe  lily  like  MellBia  droopM  her  brow*  i 
"Forliear"  the  Prineeas  cried  ;  "Foil 

And  healed  thro'  and  thro'  with  wtatli 

I  smote  him  oii  Iho  breaat ;  he  started 

ot  a  city  Back'd| 


■'  To  bon 

Said  Ida;    "1 

fled,  as  H 


>  horse  !  ■■  aiid 


In   the  pavilion :   there  Uko  partlne 

I  Ueard  Qiem  paaaing  from  me  :  lioof 

And  every  hoof  ■  knell  to  my  desires, 
Clang'd  on  the  bridge  ;  and  tbeu  ui- 

"  The  Head,  the  Head,  the  FrinceB,  O 

For  blind  with  rsiie   she   mlsa'd  the 

pUMk,aiidron'd 
In  Uie  river.    Out  I  sprang  from  glow 

There  wlilrl'd  her  white  rob*  Ukea 

the  horrible  fall :  a  gltatt  I 

;  but  wotnan.TCDted  u  I  *a3 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


155 


nnAged ;  and  the  flood  drew ;  yet  I 

caught  her;  then 
Oaring  one  arm.  and  hearing  in  mrleft 
The  weight  of  all  the  hopes  of  half  the 

world, 
StroTe  to  buffet  to  land  in  Tain.     A 

tree 
"Was  half-disrooted  from  his  place  and 

stoop'd 
To  drench  his  dark  locks  hi  the  gurg- 
ling wave 
Mid-channel.    Right  on  this  we  drove 

a])d  caught. 
And  grasping  down  the  boughs  I  gain*d 

the  shore. 


There  stood  her  maidens  glimmer- 
ingly  group'd 

In  the  hollow  bank.  One  reaching  for- 
ward drew 

My  burden  from  mine  arms ;  they  cried 
*'  she  lives  : " 

They  bore  her  back  into  the  tent :  but  I, 

So  much  a  kind  of  shame  withhi  me 
wrousht, 

Not  yet  endured  to  meet  her  opening 
eyes. 

Nor  found  my  friends;  but  pushed 
alone  on  foot 

(For  since  her  horse  was  lost  I  left  her 
mine) 

Across  the  woods,  and  less  from  In- 
dian craft 

Than  beelike  instinct  hiveward,  found 
at  length 

The  garden  portals.  Two  great  statues, 
Art 

And  Science,  Caryatids,  lifted  up 

A  weight  of  emblem,  and  betwixt  were 
valves 

Of  open-work  in  which  the  hunter  rued 

Uis  rash  intrusion,  manlike,  but  his 
brows 

Had  sprouted,  and  the  branches  there- 
upon 

Spread  out  at  top,  and  grimly  spiked 
the  gates. 

A  little  space  was  left  between  the 

horns. 
Thro*  which  I  clamber'd  o*er  at  top 

with  pain, 
I>ropt  on  tlie  sward,  and  up  the  linden 

walks. 
And,  tost  on  thoughts  that  changed 

from  hue  to  hue, 
Now  poring  on  the  glowworm,  now  the 

star, 
I  paced  the  terrace,  till  the  Bear  had 

wheel'd 
Thxo*  a  great  arc  his  seven  slow  suns. 

A  step 
Of  lightest  echo,  then  a  loftier  form 
Thau  female,  moving  thro*  the  uncer* 

tain  gloom, 
IMsturb'd  me  with  the  doubt "  if  this 

were  she  ** 
UntitwasFlorian.   <<Hi8tOHi8t,"ho 

MOdt 


**  They  seek  us :  out  so  late  is  out  of 

rutes. 
Moreover  *  seize  the  strangers  *  is  the 

cry. 
How  came  you  here?"  I  told  himi 

"I"  said  he, 
'*  Last  of  the  trahi,  a  moral  leper,  I, 
To  whom  none   spake,   half-eick  at 

heart,  retum'd. 
Arriving  all  confused  among  the  rest 
With  hooded  brows  I  crept  into  the 

hall, 
And,  couch*d  behind  a  Judith,  under- 
neath 
The  head  of  Holof  ernes  peep'd  and  saw. 
Girl  after  girl  was  call'd  to  trial :  each 
Disclaim 'a  all  knowledge  of  us :  last 

of  all, 
Melissa :  trust  me.  Sir,  I  pitied  her. 
She,  question'd  if  she  knew  us  men, 

at  first 
Was  silent ;  closer  prest,  denied  it  not: 
And  then,  demanded  if  her  mother 

knew, 
Or  Psyche,  she  affirm*d  not,  or  denied: 
From  whence  the  Royal  mind,  familiar 

with  her. 
Easily  gather*d  either  guilt.    She  sent 
f  or  Psyche,  but  she  was  not  there ;  she 

call'd 
For  Psyche's  child  to  cast  it  from  the 

doors ; 
She  sent  for  Blanche  to  accuse  her 

face  to  face ; 
And  I  slipt  out :  but  whither  will  you 

now? 
And  where  are  Psyche,  Cyril  ?  both  are 

fied: 
What,  if  together?  that  were  not  so 

well. 
Would  rather  we  had  never  come !    I 

dread 
His  wildness,  and  the  chances  of  the 

dark." 

**  And  yet,**  I  said,  «« you  wrong  him 

more  than  I 
That  struck  him  :  this  is  proper  to  the 

clown, 
Tho'  smock'd,  or  furr*d  and  purpled, 

still  the  clown. 
To  harm  the  thing  that  trusts  him,  and 

to  shame 
That  which  he  says  he  loves :  for  Cyril, 

howe*er 
He  deal  in  frolic,  as  to-night— the  song 
Might  have  been  worse  and  sinu'd  in 

grosser  lips 
Beyond  all  pardon— as  it  is,  I  hold 
These  flashes  on  the  surface  are  not  he. 
He  has  a  solid  base  of  temperament : 
But  as  the  waterlily  starts  and  slides 
Upon  the  level  in  little  puffs  of  wind 
Tho*  anchor'd  to  the  bottom,  such  is 

he.*' 

• 

Scarce  had  I  ceased  when  from  % 
tamarisk  near 
Two  Proctors  leapt  upon  us,  crying^ 
**Naittei;»» 


f 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


H«i  standing  still,  vol  clutch'd  -,  Lut  X 
id   llie  mnnky-clrcl^d   mBKes, 

By  «11  tlie  foujilaluH  i  fleet  1  was  of 

EBfore  niesbowet'a  Uiorosa  In  flakes; 

buUiid 
I  heftcd  thg  iinfTd  pursuer ;  at  mine 

Bubbled  Lhe  nlgbtlngalo  and  beeded 

Liid  »oret  Itnibter  tickled  b11  my  BoaL 
..t  ]»t  I  book'i 
TliBt  cloii-pt  Uie 
Aiuiral11]i|;i 


&M110 


caugbt  aud 


vitbiii 


iiBird 


The  lUj-a „ 

Bow'd  (HI  her  pslna  mid   full 

from  wronc, 
Her  mund  wbite  akouldBT  Ebokeu  7 


id  gileTed— loxlickeD  uid  U 
witii  ber  ix-^miiiE  n|wv 


1 1  bora  up  in  pott  from  ancient  1 
d  partly  tluil  1  bopKil  ' '■ 

dparilyconaciouBofmy  own  deMrlv 
idpsrHy  tliacyou  were  my  civirhMdi' 
id  Eblouy  yoa  wero  bom  ' 


They  hBlort  us  to  thfl  Priocem  wbers 
High  In  ihB  hall ;  aboye  hoi  droop'd  a 
AndmodelEeBinglajenel  an  herbron- 

worrl  her,  combine  ""'  !■" 

Damp  from  Iha  rivtr 
"  hind  her  SI..0.I 
lit  dauEbters  of  Ibe  plough  ^Lrouger 


Aud 

thing  gi 
[n  which  I  mlg 

Whoa  time  sbo 

noble  se 

Grew  up  from  s 


r  fBllow-Horlier 


Up  in  01 


nm  Eeed  we  two  I011D 
I  lown ; 
ETowth,  lu  licr  a  J< 


k  this  pah 
thelinl 


n  light  nnd  dnik- 

iiimit  came  but  that  yoa  plonsil 
ler  path 

PeydiB,  jounecr,  not  so  wln^ 
Id  (liend  aud  Cried,  alie  new  lii 


I 


ButsHUherliBtiwi 


p  hi  ht>p«  Bhe  would  be 
leso  woItch  :   Ihtff  kllew 


Then,  ai  we  cams,  ttm  crond  dlvld- 

An  advent  to  Uie  throne ;  aud  there 

beelde. 
naW-nake,l  as  It  Cttufiht  at  onco  from 

bed 
And  tumbled  on  the  purple  foolclotb, 

lay 
Qy-ahin 


^1id1e» 


:  nlgbl,  t) 


le  pu1>llfl  weal. 


""l;"' 


waa  not  thus,  O  PrluceaB,  in  old 
iiiiBd  loy  counael,  lived  upon  ray 


tboD^t  asalu;  I 

I 'We  thank  yoa,  ire  alall 

From  Lady  Fayclio  1 '  yon  bod  gono  to 

Bbe  told,  perforce ;  and  winning  easy 

No  doubt,  for  Blight  deUy,  remahi'd 

In  oar  young  nuiseiy  etill  onknoini, 
the  Btem 

"Were   all  luiBoounted  as  mallgnanl 
To  push  my  rival  ont  ol   place 
But  pubtie  use  reqnired  Blie  sbouli 
And  since  my  oath  was  la'eD  Cor  pu 
1  broke  tliolotterofit  to  keep  tliOM 


I 


THE  PRINCESS :  A  MEDLEY. 


157 


X  spake  not  then  at  fizst,  but  watch'd 

them  well, 
8aw  that  they  kept  apart,  no  mischief 

done : 
And  yet  thu  day  (tho*  you  should  hate 

me  for  it) 
I  came  to  tell  you ;  found  that  you  had 

gone, 
Bidd'n  to  the  hills,  she  likewise  :  now, 

I  thought, 
That  surely  she  will  speak ;   if   not, 

then  I : 
Did  she?    These   monsters   olazon'd 


what  they  were. 

Iff  to  the 
kind. 


According  to  the  coarseness  of  their 


For  thus  I  hear ;  and  known  at  last 

(my  work) 
And  roll  of  cowardice     and  guilty 

shame, 
I  grant  in  her  some  sense  of  shame, 

she  flies ; 
And  I  remain  on  whom  to  wreak  your 


rage, 
It  hai 


I,  that  have  lent  my  life  to  build  up 

yours, 
I  that  nave  wasted  here  health,  wealth, 

and  time. 
And  talents,  I— you  know  it— I  will 

not  boast : 
Dismiss  me,  and  1  prophesy  your  plan, 
Divorced  fiom  my  experience,  will  be 

chaff 
For  every  gust  of  chance,  and  men  will 

say 
TTe  did  not  know  the  real  light,  but 

chased 
The  wisp  that  flickers  where  no  foot 

can  tread." 

Che  ceased:  the  Princess  answer'd 
coldly  '•  Good : 
Tour  oath  is  broken  :  we  dismiss  you : 

ao. 

For  this  lost  lamb  (she  pointed  to  the 

child) 
Oar  mind  is  changed :  we  take  it  to 

ourself.'* 

Thereat  the  Lady  stretch'd  a  vulture 

throat. 
And  shot  from  crooked  lips  a  haggard 

smile. 
•'  The  plan  was  mine.  I  built  the  nest" 

she  said 
••  To  hatch  the  cuckoo.    Rise ! "  and 

BtoopM  to  updrag 
Melissa:    she,  half    on  her    mother 

propt. 
Half-drooping  from  her,  tum*d  her 

face,  and  cast 
A  liquid  look  on  Ida,  full  of  prayer, 
Which  melted  Floriau*s  fancy  as  she 

hung, 
A  NiobSan  daughter,  one  arm  out, 
Appealing  to  the  bolts  of  Heaven ;  and 

"We  gazed  upon  her  came  a  little  sth* 
About  the  doors,  and  on  a  sudden 
msh'd 


Among  us,  out  of  breath,  as  one  pur- 
sued, 
A  woman-i>ost  in  flying  raiment.  Fear 
Stared  in  her  eyes,  and  chalk'd  her 

face,  and  wiug'd 
Her  transit  to  the  throne,  whereby  she 

fell 
Delivering  seal'd  despatches  which  the 

Head 
Took  half-amazed,  and  i:i  her  lion's 

mood 
Tore  open,  silent  we  with  blind  sur- 
mise 
Regarding,  while  she  read,  till  over 

brow 
And  cheek  and  bosom  brake  the  wrath- 
ful bloom 
As  of  some  Are  against  a  «tormy  cloud. 
When  the  wild  peasant  rights  himself, 

the  rick 
Flames,  and  his  anger  reddens  in  the 

heavens  ; 
For  anger  most  it  seem'd,  while  now 

her  breast. 
Beaten  witli  some  great  passion  at  her 

heart, 
Palpitated,  her  hand   shook,  and   wo 

heard 
In  the  dead  hush  tho  papers  that  she 

held 
Rustle  :  at  once  the  lost  lamb  at  her 

feet 
Sent  out  a  bitter  bleating  for  its  dam ; 
The  plaintive  cry  jarr'd  on  her  iro ; 

she  crush'd 
The  scrolls  together,  made  a  sudden 

turn 
As  if  to  speak,  but,  utterance  failing 

her. 
She  wbirl'd  them  on  to  me,  as  who 

should  say 
'*  Read,"  and  I  read— two  letters— one 

her  sire's. 

**  Fair  daughter,  when  wo  sent  the 

Prmce  your  way 
"We  knew  not  your  ungracious  laws, 

which  learnt, 
"We,  conscious  of  what  temper  you  are 

built. 
Came  all  in  haste  to  hinder  wrong,  but 

fell 
Into  his  father's  hands,  who  has  this 

night, 
You  lying  close  upon  his  territory, 
Slipt  round  and  iu  the  dark  invested 

you. 
And  here  he  keeps  me  hostage  for  hio 


>> 


son. 

The  second  was  my  father's  running 

thus : 
**  You  have  our  son  :  touch  not  a  hair 

of  his  head : 
Render  him  up  unscathed :  give  him 

your  hand : 
Cleave  to  your  contract :  tho*  indeed 

we  hear 
You  hold  the  woman  is  the  better  man: 
A  rampant  heresy,  such  ixa  \li*;>  ^^^^x^^aa. 


rns  PRINCESS:  a  medley. 


11  kick  BgnliiBt 
1  wMcIi  mlglit 


Our  ion,  oil  the  iUFtant,  wbalo," 

And  then  ibiod  ap  and  >p^e  lm|;>el- 


But  veiieiator,  leBlnus  It  sltOBlit  be 
All  tbAC  It  might  Iw ;  liear  me,  for  I 

Tbo'  man,  jethnmm.irliiitsoo'erjour 

rrom  thB  ^en  curl  to  tLo  graj  lock  a 

lifs 
IiOMmlnetlianyoura  :  my  nurao  would 

-11  me  of  yc--- 


I  babbled  tor  fou,  as  babtci  tor  tha 
boy,  yoTi 
n  aU  Call 


Vagus  bfi^htneBB ;  -wh 

From  all  lilgli  placeB,  U 
lighla. 

And  blD«ii  to  tomoit  noitli ;  atero  anil 

dnWM 
With  Id&i  Ida.  Ilia,  mug  tlw  woods : 
rUa  loadPt  wUdswflii  iii   among  iho 

Would  olang  It,  and  laot  111  wreatlis  of 

glowworm  lisbC 
Hie  msIlDW  bleaker  laurmur'il  Ida. 

Now, 
BMaluea  I  would  lutTO   rcHcli'd  you, 

Spbecsd  np  wlUi  CaasJopSIa,  or  the  en- 

Ponephnns  In  Hadei. 


I  of   I 


o  oJl  » 


nicii 


»  I  lou 


IndPei 


full 


Not  111  tlila  frei|ueuce 

O  noble  Idk  to  those  thougbts  that 

wait 
On  you.  tbetr  centra  :  lat  mo  my  but 

lhl», 
That  many  a  (iimoUB  man  and  woman, 

And  latulsklp,  haia  I  beard  of,  nf tor 

ThB  dwarta  of  preBage;    tbo"   whoii 


Made  I 


detail 


And  mantei'd,  while  that  uttor-beati^ 

Such  bold  from  act  to  Bct,  from  banr 

to  hour, 
Wllblii  lue,  that  except  yon  ilnyma 

AiTording  to  yoar  blticr  stBtnte-book, 
1  caiuiot  ueaaw  to  lotlow  you,  ■<  tlu^ 

ThiaealdDSB  mn^e;  who  deilrs  yon 

Than  orowins  boys  tbelr  maDhood; 

Jyiiig  llp". 
With  many  Uiousond  mattera  left  lo 

The  breatli  of  Itta  :  O  moie  thitn  pooi 

man  wealth, 
Than  aide  roan  henlth— joun,  youn  , 

'Without  you :  with  you,  wbole ;  a 

those  halveii 
ToawoTtAieit;  aiiilhowe'eryoabliKlt) 

Tour  heart  with  lymem  out  Irom  mine. 

That  it  becomes  no  mim  to  num 

teeth  o(  cleuch'd  atili 


Dthe  w 


Keady  t 


l^ma 
To  follow 

Y«t  thHt  1  rsmo  not  an  niiauuioi 
Heboid  your  faUior'B  letter." 

On  one 
KiieellnR,  I  gaye  It,  whliili  ibe  ci 

rnopen'dathe'rfeet:  aflda(rf(.„. 
I]iv«i:tiTe  seeui'd  to  wait  behind  k 

riycflorel  with  ihuilai 
bust  and  flood   Iko  « 

And  so  she  would  hnra  spoken 

there  ro«, 
A.  buhbub  lu  ILe  court  of  haU   L 

Gatbcr'd  together :  from  the  ill 

hBll 
Long  UiiBB  of  splendor  «lanl«d  6 
Of  snowy  Bbooldcn,  thick  a 

And  ntlnbon- robes,  and  oems  andEemi 
like  eyes,  ' 

Id  golden  head*  ;  the]'  M^ 


Id  fro 


la  flown 


[  open-mouth  d,  all  cail: 

Sight, 
imo  crying  there  was  an  araiy  In  U 


walls, 
1  some  they  cared  nc 


THE  PRINCESS :  A  MEDLEY. 


1(« 


Kot  peace  she  look'd,  the  Head :  bat 

naingup 
Bobed  in  the  long  night  of  her  deep 

hair,  so 
To  the  open  window  moyed,  remaining 

there 
FIxt  like  a  beacon-tower  above  the 

waves 
Of  tempest,  when  the  crimson-rolling 

eye 
Glares  ruin,  ani  the  wild  birds  on  the 

light 
Dash  themselves  dead.    She  stretch'd 

her  arms  and  call'd 
Across  the  tumult  and  the  tumult  fell. 


•*  What  fear  ye  brawlers  ?  am  not  I 

your  Head  ? 
On  me,  me,  me,  the  storm  first  breaks: 

/dare 
All  these  male  thunderbolts :  what  is 

it  ye  fear? 
Peace  I  there  are  those  to  avenge  us 

and  they  come : 
If  not,— myself  were  like  enough,  O 


girls, 
ifu] 


To  unfurl  the  maiden  banner  of  our 
rights. 

And  clad  iu  iron  burst  the  ranks  of 
war. 

Or,  falling,  protomartyr  of  our  cause, 

JMe :  yet  I  blame  you  not  ao  much  tor 
fear; 

Six  thousand  vears  of  fear  have  made 
you  tliat 

From  which  I  would  redeem  you  ;  but 
for  those 

That  stir  this  hubbub— you  and  you— I 
know 

Tour  faces  there  In  the  crowd  —  to- 
morrow mom 

We  hold  a  great  convention :  then  shall 
they 

That  love  their  voices  more  than  duty, 

learn 

With  whom  they  deal,  dismissed  iu 
shame  to  live 

No  wiser  than  their  mothers,  house- 
hold stuff, 

JAye  chattels,  miucera  of  each  other's 
fame, 

Full  of  weak  poison,  turnspits  for  the 
clown. 

The  drunkard's  football,  laughing- 
stocks  of  Time, 

Whose  brains  are  iu  their  hands  and 
in  their  heels. 

But  fit  to  flaunt,  to  dress,  to  dance,  to 
thrum. 

To  tramp,  to  scream,  to  bnmishiand 
to  scour. 

For  ever  slaves  at  home  and  fools 
abroad.*' 

She,  ending,  waved  her  hands :  there- 
at the  crowd 

Hattering,  dissolved :  then  with  a 
•B^.  that  k>ok'd 

A  stroke  of  oruel  suushine  on  the  cliff, 


When  all  tlie  glens  are  drown*d  i|i 

azure  gloom 
Of  thunder-shower,  she  floated  to  us 

and  said : 

"You  have  done  well  and  like  a 

fentleman, 
ike    a   prince :   you  have   our 

thanks  for  all : 
And  you  look  well  too  in  your  woman's 

dress  : 
Well  have  you  done  and  like  a  gentle- 
man. 
Tou  saveil  our  life  :  we  owe  you  bitter 

thanks : 
Better  have  died  and  spilt  our  bones  in 

the  flood- 
Then  men  had  said— but  now— What 

hinders  mo 
To  take  such  bloody  vengeance  on  you 

both?— 
Tet  since  our  father— Wasps  in  our 

gooil  hive. 
You  would-be  quenchers  of  the  light 

to  be. 
Barbarians,  grosser  than  your  native 

bears — 

0  would  I  had  his  sceptre  for  one 

hour  ! 
You  that  have  dared  to  break  our 

bound,  and  gull'd 
Our  servants,  wrong'd  and  lied  and 

thwarted  us — 
/  wed  with  thee  !  /  bound  by  precon- 
tract 
Your  bride,  your  bondslave !  not  tho^ 

all  the  gold 
That  veins  the  world  were  i>ack'dtc 

make  your  crown, 
And  every  spoken  tongue  should  lord 

you.    Sir, 
Your  falsehood  and  yourself  arehate* 

f  ul  to  us : 

1  trample  on  your  offers  and  on  you  : 
Begone:  we  will  not  look  upon  you 

more. 
Here,  push  them  out  at  gates." 

In  wrath  she  spake. 
Then  those  eight  mighty  daughters  of 

the  plough 
Bent  their  broad  faces  toward  us  and 

address'd 
Their  motion :  twice  I  sought  to  plead 

my  cause. 
But  on  my  shoulder  hung  their  heavy 

hands, 
The  weight  of  destiny :  so  from  her  face 
They  push'd  us,  down  the  steps,  and 

thro'  the  court. 
And  with  grim  laughter  thrust  us  out 

at  gates. 

We  cross'd  the  street  and  gain'd  a 
petty  mound 

Beyond  it,  whence  wo  saw  the  lights 
and  heard 

The  voices  murmuring.  While  I  list- 
en'd,  came 

On  a  sudden  the  weird  seizure  and  the 
doubt : 


■i 


TUE  PniyCKSS:  A  MEDLEY. 

Aitsneed  llie  lav  or,  and  lu 


orkUig  eUe  by 

Slid  U.a 

Worn  ■Uodows  *,  and  Ihc  long  fantOBtlD 

With  air Ite  dolngii  Imd  aud  lisd  not 

And  all  Ililngs  wcro  mid  were  not. 

TliU  wuut  by 
Aa  itiangely  a>  It  came,  and  on  my 

..  .ttlodagsntleclondof  inelBU«lii>ly ; 
Not  long ;  I  ihoolt  It  oil ;  lot  apllB  u( 

And  Btiddeu  ghoetly  BliadonlnKi  1  vaa 

To  whom  tha  taach  of  all  misdiaDae 


iiiiiBe  i  tLeuNemoTodawity. 


ant  thro' railing  dm 


A  moment. 

"-—•MM 

I,  like  flre 


He  taea  iAt  brood  aboui  thy  li 
■he  next,  like  flre  ha  mmti  thu  -.. 
And  nlrikaa  him  dead  for  ihlua  aud 

0  LlUa  Banf ;  we  thought  Ler  liaU- 

ha  struck  suoh  wacblhig  fury  thio'  the 

kiid,  lUlte^  telguing  plqno  at  what  she 

Tha  TBillitry,  or  grotesque,  or  falsa  lub- 

LUa  one  that  wlahea  at  a  dance  to 

change 
The  muilc— olapt  lier  lands  and  cried 

raiul  flghC  to  kill  and  muko 

Andhe~that  liext  Inherited  the  Ula 
Half  turning  to  the  broken  Htatiru  ^dt 
"  BIT  KalphTiss  got  your  colore  :  if  I 

r  knight,  and  flght  your  bPiltle 

It  chanued,  her  empty  glove  upon  tha 

by  bar  Ilka  a  model  or  lier  band, 
took  it  and  Bh«  dung  It.    ■'  light " 

Bhe  said, 
id  make  ub  all  we  would  be,  ereat 


kntgbdike 


{•orroH'd  from  the  hall. 


i,  Hb  rough  clieck  '  I 
'rfdca  "'King,  yoa    I 
Wa  did  bat  leep  you  aurcty  for  onr 
IftMabe'he,— oradragElcd  mawldii, 

'fhat  Icuils  her  bristled  cruBtcD  in  Uia 

BlucUo  :  '■ 
For  1  wan  droneh'd  with  ooAe,  audtiim  ' 

with  briers.  I 

More  crumplad  than  a  poppy  from  Um  J 

And  all  oiie  rag,  dlsprlnced  from  bead  1 

Then  some  one  sent  beneath  hli  lault.  | 

A  wliiapat'd  lest  from  »oi 

him  "  I.Aok, 
He  hfu  l>eeu  aiDuiigblE  aliai 


\ 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY- 


Ut 


Boar'd)  "  make  yourself  a  man  to  fight 

with  men. 
Go :  Cyril  told  us  all." 

As  boys  that  slink 
From  ferule  and  the  trespass-chiding 

eye, 
Away  we  stole,  and  transient  in  a  trice 
J«^rom  what  was  left  of  faded  woman- 
slough 
To  sheathing  splendors  and  the  golden 

scale 
Of  harness,  issued  in  the  sun,  that  now 
Leapt  from  the  dewy  shoulders  of  the 

Earth, 
And  hit  the  Northern  hills.  Here  Cyril 

met  us, 
A  little  shy  at  first,  but  by  and  by 
We  twain,  with  mutual  pardon  ask*d 

and  given 
For  stroke  and  song,  resoldcr'd  peace, 

whereon 
FoUow'd  his  tale.  Amazed  he  flew  away 
Thro'  the  dark  laud,  and  laler  iu  the 

night 
Had  come  on  Psyche  weeping :  **  then 

we  fell 
Iiito  your  father's  hand,  and  there  she 

lies, 
But  will  not  speak,  nor  stir.*' 

He  show'd  a  tent 
A  stonoHshot  off :  we  euter'd  iu,  and 

there 
Among  piled  arms  and  rough  accoutre- 
ments. 
Pitiful  sight,  wrapp'd  in  a  soldier's 

cloak, 
Like  some  sweet  sculpture  draped  from 

head  to  foot, 
And  push'd  by  rude  hands  from  its 

pedestal, 
All  her  fair  length  upon  the  ground 

she  lay  : 
And  at  her  head  a  follower  of  the  camp, 
A  charr'd  and  wrinkled  piece  of  wo- 
manhood, 
Sat  watching  like  a  watcher  by  the 

dead. 

Then  Florian  knelt,  and  "  Come  "  he 

whlsper'd  to  her, 
**  Lift  up  your  head,  sweet  sister :  lie 

not  thus. 
What  have  you  done  but  right  ?  you 

could  not  slay 
He,  nor  your  prince  .  look  up  :  be  com- 
forted: 
Sweet  is  it  to  have  done  the  thing  one 

ought, 
When  fall'n  in  darker  ways.'*     And 

likewise  I : 
"  Be  comforted :  have  I  not  lost  her 

too. 
In  whose  least  act  abides  the  nameless 

charm 
That  none  has   else  for  me?"  She 

heard,  she  moved, 
She  moan'd,  a  folded  voice ;  and  up 

sherat« 
And  raised  the  cloak  from  brows  as 

pale  and  smootli 


As  those  that  mourn  half  -  shrouded 

over  death 
In  deathless  marble.    **  Her  "  she  said 

*'  my  friend- 
Parted  from  her— betray' d  her  cause 

and  mine — 
Where  shall  I  breathe  ?  why  kep1>  yo 

not  your  faith  ? 
O  base  and  bad !  what  comfort  ?  none 

for  me  ! " 
To  whom  remorseful  Cyril  "  Yet  I  pray 
Take  comfort :  live,  dear  lady,  for  your 

child!" 
At  which  she  lifted  up  her  voice  and 

cried. 

*'  Ah  me,  my  babe,  my  blossom,  ah 

my  child. 
My  one  sweet  child,  whom  I  shall  see 

no  more ! 
For  now  will  cruel  Ida  keep  her  back : 
And  either  she  will  die  from  want  of 

care. 
Or  sicken  with  ill-usage,  when  they 

say 
The   child  is  hers— for    every  little 

fault, 
The  child  ia  hers  ;  and  they  -will  beat 

my  girl 
Remembering  her  mother  :  O  my  flow- 
er I 
Or  they  will  take  her,  they  will  make 

fiBT  hard, 
And  she  will  pass  me  by  in  after-life 
With  some  cold  reverence  worse  than 

were  she  dead. 
Ill  mother  that  I  was  to  leave  her 

there. 
To  lag  behind,  scared  by  the  cry  they 

made. 
The  horror  of  the  shame  among  them 

all: 
But  I  will  go  and  sit  beside  tlie  doors, 
And  make  a  wild  petition  night  and 

day. 
Until  they  hate  to  hear  me  like  a  wind 
Wailing  lor  ever,  till  they  open  to  me. 
And  lay  my  little  blossom  at  my  feet. 
My  babe,  my  sweet  AglaVa,  my  one 

child : 
And  1  will  take  her  up  and  go  my  way. 
And  satisfy  my  soul  with  kissing  her  : 
Ah  !  what  might  that  man  not  deserve 

of  me. 
Who  gave  me  back  my  child  ?  "  **  Be 

comforted  " 
Said  Cyril  "  you  shall  have  ii : "  but 

again 
She  veil'd  her  brows,  and  prone  she 

sank,  and  so 
Like  tender  things  that  being  caught 

feign  death, 
Spoke  not,  nor  stirr'd. 

By  this  a  murmur  ran 
Thro'  all  the  camp  and  inward  raced 

the  scouts 
With  rumor  of  Prince  Arac  hard  at 

hand. 
We  left  her  by  the  woman,  and  with' 

out 


\ 


^^m 


i  Ibe  graykJiies  i 

"Look  vou"  mad 
Hr  ftlher  ••  tiki  our  mmpBctbo  Inl- 

t  a'pollt  IhiB  cblia  ;  >hD  laughs 

■ell,  bc[  lex,  and  lue 


THE  PniNCESS  -■  A  MEDLET. 


Blie  fleUa,  or  vnr." 


n'iitt 


inuy 


If  poselblo 


Willi  our  slrmnDe  cirl;  nnd  jet  Itiey 

Sou  I0Y8  lier.    OIto  lu,  then,   your 

Bovuj'  jrou,  war  or  111)1?" 

O  king."  I  B^d,  "  leal  from 

litt  dBnecmled  Bhrlno,  tlio  Immpled 

oiii'deriiig  hoineBtead,  and  lbs 

LHueliold  Jlower 

ODi  lliB  llutel— kll  Uio  comnion 

A  nooke  go  up  Uiro'  -wLlcli  I  loom  to 

Three  UmeB  ■  moniter  ;  uow  slie  Uglit* 

lier  pion,  ^at  tlios 

(And  every  volte  alio  taU'd  nlUi  rittiry 


ilfoo 


Bygeiil 


■or.    I«. 


I  nighcr  UilB  sltLo'    vi 

louglii  liei 

If  ling  of  wlioBo  eyelmih  is  my  lonl 
iveriffuuld  abe  Jove;  but  brood- 

i™f  o""™m,  till  all  my  flitlLn 

BUBlit  witbin  tbo  rocon.1  of  bei 


■idc?!Sh'St 


duath :  and  ratbor,  \ 


■  bimuit 
bill*. 


Foraotlan,  raBllne  on  hii 

JtotUllKOM  BODia  wild  Bboro    wiui    jjua 

Or  like  all  old-norld  maminoUi  bulk'd 


My  father. 
Thai  Idlo't 


'Tnl,  you  know  lUum  uot, 

Ha. 

1  Lear  you  pmto  T  almoal 

sgend  credible.    Look  you, 


akin  a 


Iieauly  of  their 
d  we  tide  tliem 
vith  them !  Ctc:  t 


Tbejio 

WbeedllneBudsldin; 

for  tliimu  ! 
Coy,  there'a  110  row 

to  them 
As  lie  thai  does  the  thing  ther  darv 

OrealhLiig  and  eouniling  Iwaatenus  bal- 

'Witb  the  air  of  Ihe  tromuet  round  bbii 

and  leap,  in 
Among  the  women,  mitree  them  by  ibi 

FUttar-d    aud    fluatw'd,    iriiw,   IW 
daab'dnlth  death 
ini  what 


Your 


'IJier,  a  good  u 


a  Hrebriuid — 


To  trip  a  Reread  with  a  HMaaiUdr, 
Were  wledom  lo  11." 

"YenbulSlr8,"Ic„.,_ 
'' ^Vlld  natural  need  wine  uurlM.    Tlu  J 

^Vhat  dares  not  Ida  do  that  1 

The  aoldior  ?  I  beheld  bar  whi 
The  yoslemigUt,  aud  aLuriul 

&l30d  for  her  cause,  and  dangdeAnDoa,! 

Gogellke  to  man,  Oiul  hnd  nt 

(be  death. 
Xo,  not  the  soldier's  ;  yal  1  hold  b 

king, 

Tbathaie  aBinin 
Hie  violet  variea: 
As  oak  from  elm 

dler,  one 
The  silken  prleat  of  peace,  one  llilai 

And  aome  uuwottblly;   their  tfnkn 

fidth, 
A  Tnnlilen  moonlbatapnrklesoii  ttOf, 
(ilorifying  clowli  and  Mlyr]  whanua 

they  need 


m  the  Illy  ai 


Mor 


of  oultun 


<l  Idk.l 


Tbay  wortli  I1 

aheuJEwiioJal 
you  ipeaii. 
My  mother,  looks  as  nliota  as  so 


Eo  Ibo  law  w 

lelorioofallfe? 
gnelielc 


Of  so 


irt  in  til 


THE  PRINCESS :  A  MEDLEY. 


168 


Bat  pure  as  lines  of  green  that  streak 

the  white 
Of  the  first  snowdrop's  inner  leaves ; 

Isav, 
Not  like  the  piebald  miscellany,  man, 
Bursts  of  great  heart  aiud  slips  in  sen- 
sual mire, 
But  whole  and  one  :  and  take  them  all- 
in-all, 
Were  we  ourselves  but  half  as  good,  as 

kind. 
As  truthful,  much  that  Ida  claims  as 

right 
Had  ne^r  been  mooted,  but  as  frankly 

theirs 
An  dues  of  Nature.    To  our  point :  not 

war: 
Lost  I  lose  all.*' 

**  Nay,  nay,  you  spake  but  sense," 
Said  Gaina.    **  We  remember  love  our- 

self 
In  our  sweet  youth  ;  we  did  not  rate 

him  then 
This  red-hot  iron  to  bo  shaped  with 

blows. 
Toa  talk  almost  like  Ida :  aJiecantaXk; 
And  iJiere  is  something  in  it  as  you  say : 
But  you  talk  kindlier :  we  esteem  you 

for  it— 
Ae   seems  a  gracious  and  a  gallant 

Prince, 
I  would  he  had  our  daughter :  for  the 

rest, 
Our  own  detention,  why,  the  causes 

weigh'd, 
fatherly  fears — yon  used  us  courte- 
ously— 
\7e  would  do  much  to  gratify  your 

P*rince — 
AVe  pardon  it ;  and  for  your  ingress 

here 
XJpon  the  skirt  and  fringe  of  our  fair 

land, 
^ou  did  but  come  as  goblins  in  the 

night, 
^or  in  the  furrow  broke  the  plough- 
man's head, 
^or  burnt  the  grange,  nor  buss'd  the 

milkine-maid, 
^or  robb'd  uie  fanner  of  his  bowl  of 

cream : 
^ut  let  your  Prince  (our  royal  word 

upon  it» 
Se  comes  back  safe)  ride  with  us  to 

our  lines, 
^nd  speak  with  Arac  :  Arac's  word  is 

thrice  [done — 

As  ours  with  Ida :  something  maf  be 
1  know  not  what — and  ours  shall  see 

us  friends. 
ToUy  likewise,  our  late  guests,  if  so 

you  will, 
Pollow  us :  who  knows  ?  we  four  may 

build  some  plan 
Poursquare  to  opposition." 

Here  he  reach'd 
VHiite  hands  of  farewell  to  my  sire, 

who  growl'd 
An  answer  which,  half-muffled  in  his 

beardy 


Let  so  much  out  as  gave  us  leaye  to 
go. 

Then  rode  we  with  the  old  king 

across  the  lavms 
Beneath  hu^e  trees,  a  thousand  rings 

of  Spring 
In  every  bole,  a  song  on  every  spray 
Of  birds  that  piped  their  Valeutiues. 

and  woke 
Desire  in  me  to  infuse  my  tale  of  love 
In  the  old  king's  ears,  who  promised 

help,  and  oozod 
All  o'  er  with  honey'd  answer  as  We 

rode  ; 
And  blossom-fragrant  slipt  tho  heavy 

dews 
Gather'd  by  night  and  peace,  with  each 

light  air 
On    our    niaird    heads :     but  other 

thoughts  than  Peace 
Burnt  in  us,  when  we  saw  the  embat- 
tled squares, 
And  squadrons  of  the  Prince,  tramp- 
ling the  flowers 
With  clamor:  for  among  them  rose  a  cry 
As  if  to  greet  the  king ;  they  made  a 

halt; 
The  horses  yell'd  ;  they  clash'd  theii 

arms ;  the  drum 
Beat;    merrily-blowing  shrill'd    the 

martial  fife ; 
And  in  the  blast  and  bray  of  the  long 

horn 
And  serpent-throated  bugle,  undulated 
The  banner  :  anon  to  meet  us  lightly 

pranced 
Three  captains  out;  nor  ever  had  I  seen 
Such  thews  of  men  :  the  midmost  and 

the  highest 
Was  Arac  :  all  about  his  motion  clung 
The  sliadow  of  his  sister,  as  the  beam 
Of  the  East,  that  play'd  upon  them, 

made  them  glance 
Like   those   three   stars   of  the  airy 

Giant's  zone. 
That  glitter  bumish'd  by  the  frosty 

dark; 
And  as  the  fiery  Sirlus  alters  hue, 
And  bickers   into  red  and  emerald, 

shone 
Their  morions,  wash'd  with  morning, 

as  they  came. 

And  I  that  prated  peace,  when  first  I 
heard 

War-music,  felt  the  blind  wildbeast  of 
force, 

Whose  home  is  in  the  sinews  of  a  man. 

Stir  in  me  as  to  strike  :  tlien  took  tiie 
king 

His  three  broad  sons ;  with  now  a  wan- 
dering hand 

And  now  a  pointed  finger,  told  them  all . 

A  common  light  of  smiles  at  our  dis- 
guise 

Broke  from  their  lips,  and,  ere  the 
windy  jest 

Had  labord  down  within  his  ample 
lungs, 


w^ 


164 


THE  PRINCESS!  A  MEDLEY. 


:e  ill  the 

111  iDTodAd,  'adeatli  L  and  iie 
my  father  wills  not 
Aiid,  'HdiHitli  I  iRjuelC,  wlmli  care  I,  war 
But  tliflii  this  question  of  foia  triill>  Te- 
a's a  ilonnriolit  batieat  (nean- 
inl.Br: 
Um  files  too  High,  she  files  too  l>leb  I 

'd  bat  spate  nnil  f  lUrplay  lac  l.er 

Bhe  preBt  mii  pceet  it  ou  mo— I  tny- 

Wliat_,liii'DW_I    of  UiMfl  ililiiEB?  but, 

K-rialit  talliina  at  lier 

Iiajalw  flTiu'toa  iitidi,  'eaeaUi !  -nlist 

of  Uint? 
I  taliB  Jim  toi  the  flower  of  womiui- 

■■nd. 
[  often  tola  lier.  right  or  w  mng. 


Bbaiui 


Aiid,Prliic 

And,  rle^t  0 

ttll, 
I  Bland  npon  ber  side  :  sLe  niiidii 

ilh— and   wilH   solemn    riles 

oaudle-liBhl— 
IT  by  St.  somellilne— I  forget 

Bei  tliat  talked  down  tliu  llfty  «) 

itflOinndBolBw 
BliB  vriU  uot :  » 

in  fleld,  what  bIb. 

Deddea  It,  'Bdeath  I  agiduBt  uiy  f  utl 


^:  this  is 


will." 


irloa 


ii  by  brujuletiif 

To  cleDTo  tlie  rift  of  dlltorenca  deeper 

of  those  two  brolheia,  half 
_.de 

And  fincemii:  nt  the  hair  .'\bont  Mb  Up, 
"^     a  on  to  combat    "  Like  to 

'sgarment  hid  tho  woman's 

A  taunt  that  cleuch'd  Ub  purposB  tilie 

r  flei7-Blio(t   was  Cjril's  counter- 


Then  spake  Ihs  third,  "BntUiieelt 

Ko  mom,  and  la°"ii^ 

More,  nirire,  for  honor :  evBiy  captid) 

ansiy  tor  his  kine. 
fifty  oil  a  side,  U-^ 

May  breaths  himself,  and  guick  I 

or  these  or  those,  the  QueBlIoii  sslt 
dla." 

'■  Tea  '■  answered  t  "  for  thii  it 

This  (lake  of  rainbow  flylUK  on  I 

Foam  of  nien's  docdB — this  honors  tf 


Uor  compact,"  '"Sdea 

send  to  her." 
S^d  Arac,  "  worthy  ri 

Bids  by  tliii  isena  :  1 

tLTYl.' 

Andy 


jrhyt 


"Boys!"  BhrlflkodUio  oltlklnEb 
vaiiaierlhBii  a  hou 
To  her  falBB  daughtem  in  the  pool ;  l 

BsganlBd;  neither  Besm'a  there  ma 

Back  rods  wa  to  my  father'B  camp,  at 


HeUiricoliBdie 


raid  to  the  I 
would  cedi 


w  and  blew,  but 


The  third,  and  those  eight  daueliten 

of  the  plouidi 
Cams   sallTliiB   fliro'  the  gates,   aiid 

cauahtUshair,  "        ' 

And  so  belaboc'd  him  on  rih  .t..i..>..a» 
They  made  him  wild:    i 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


165 


mien  storm  is  on  the  heights,  and 

risht  and  left 
Suck*d  from  the  dark  heart  of  the  long 

hiUs  roll 
The  torrents,  dash*d  to  the  vale  :  and 

yet  her  will 
Bred  will  iu  me  to  overcome  it  or  fall. 

But  when  I  told  the  king  that  I  was 

pledged 
To  fight  in  tourney  for  my  bride,  he 

clash'd 
His  iron  palms  together  with  a  cry  ; 
Himself  would  tilt  it  out  among  the 

lads: 
But  overborne  by  all  his  bearded  lords 
With   reasons  drawn  from  age  and 

state,  perforce 
He  yielded,  wroth  and  red,  with  fierce 

demur  : 
And  many  a  bold  knight  started  up  in 

heat, 
And  Bware  to  combat  for  my  claim  till 

death. 

All  on  this  side  the  palace  ran  the 
field 

Flat  to  the  garden-wall :  and  likewise 
here, 

Above  the  garden's  glowing  blossom- 
belts, 

A  column'd  entry  shone  and  marble 
stairs, 

And  great  bronze  valves,  emboss'd 
with  Tomyris 

And  what  she  did  to  Cyrus  after  fight. 

But  now  fast  barr'd :  so  here  upon  the 
flat 

All  that  long  mom  the  lists  were  ham- 
mered up, 

And  all  that  mom  the  heralds  to  and 
fro, 

With  message  and  defiance,  went  and 
came; 

Last,  Ida's  answer,  in  a  royal  hand. 

But  shaken  here  and  there,  and  roll- 
ins  words 

Oration-like.    I  kiss'd  it  and  I  read. 

**0  brother,  you  have  known  the 

pangs  we  felt. 
What  heats  of  indignation  when  we 

heard 
Of  those  that  iron-cramp'd  their  wo- 
men's feet ; 
Of  htnds  in  which  at  the  altar  the  poor 

bride 
Gives  her  harsh  groom  for  bridal-gift 

a  scourge ; 
Of  living  heists  that  crack  witliin  the 

fire 
Where  Smoulder  their  dead  despots ; 

and  of  tliose, — 
Mothers, — that,  all   prophetic    pity, 

fling 
Their  pretty  maids  in   the   running 

flood,  and  swoops 
The  vulture,  beak  and  talon,   at  the 

heart 
Hade  for  all  noble  :notion  :  and  I  saw 


That  equal  baseness  lived  in  sleeker 

times 
With  smoother  men  :  the  old  leaven 

leaven'd  all : 
Millions  of  throats  would  bawl  for  civil 

rights, 
No  woman  named :  therefore  I  set  my 

face 
Against  all  men,  and  lived  but  for 

mine  own. 
Far  off  from  men  I  built  a  fold  for 

them  : 
I  stored  it  full  of  rich  memorial : 
I  fenced  it  round  with  gallant  insti- 
tutes. 
And  biting  laws  to  scare  the  beasts  of 

,   prey, 
And  prosper'd;   till  a  rout  of  saucy 

boys 
Brake  on  us  at  our  books,  and  marr'd 

our  peace, 
Mnsk'd  like  our  maids,  blustering  I 

know  not  what 
Of  insolence  and  love,  some  pretext 

held 
Of  baby  troth,  invalid,  since  my  will    • 
Seal'd  not  the  bond— the  striplings  I — 

for  their  sport ! — 
I  tamed  my  leopards  :  shall  I  not  tame 

these  ? 
Or  you  ?  or  I  ?  for  since  you  think  me 

touch'd 
In  honor— what,  I  would  not  aught  of 

false — 
Is  not  our  cause  pure  ?  and  whereas  I 

know 
Your  prowess,  Arac,  and  what  mother's 

blood 
You  draw  from,  fight  ;  you  failing,  I 

abide 
What  end  soever  :   fail  you  will  not. 

Still 
Take  not  his  life  :  he  risk'd  it  for  my 

own; 
His  mother  lives  :  yet  whatsoe'er  you 

do. 
Fight  and  fight  well ;  strike  and  strike 

home.    O  dear 
Brothers,  the  woman's  Angel  guards 

you,  you 
The  sole  men  to  be  mingled  with  our 

cause. 
The  sole  men  we  shall  prize  in  the 

aftertime. 
Your  very  armor  hallow'd,  and  your 

statues 
Bear'd,   sung  to.   when,  this  gad-fly 

brush'd  aside, 
We  plant  a  solid  foot  into  the  Time, 
And  mould  a  generation  strong  to  move 
With  claim  on  claim  from  right  to 

right,  till  she 
Whose  name  is  yoked  with  children's, 

know  herself ; 
And  Knowledge  in  our  own  land  make 

her  free, 
And,  ever  following  those  two  crowned 

twins, 
Commerce  and  conquest,  shower  tho 

fiery  grain 


THE  PniNCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


Ot  fr«ei1om  broadcuit  o 
Between  ih"  Norlheni  an 


a.  poaticiipt  dnsli'd  acroc 
are  lig  no  trnitorB  In  j  ou 


nui-Eliilled  li 


I :  Indoei 


0  little  chn<1 
;  wlliuL  Blie 

She  (biillnat  liaveltbocki  Uie  clillil 

To  pHzfl  the  uutliQntia  motlior  ot  her 


loft: 


mind. 


enderocphon 


Felt  at 


ny  hes 


I  ceased  ;   he  xald  :  "  Stubtiorn,  bnt 
tJpan  H  IdiiK't  rlglit  iiaiid  in  Ibutider- 

And  breed  up  nanlon  I  See  now,  tho' 

youraeif 
Be  dBizlBd  by  Uie  nildlire  Lots  Io 

aiongbs 
Tbats»ailow  I'Doinian  sense,  tlis  splnd- 

Tlilt  Oaiim  HW&uip'd  In  ioiy  tolentnee. 
Wlien  llie  man  wsnln  welglit,  tbe  wo- 

Aod  tjippies  down  tbe  tcalea ;  but  this 


U  111  to  iive  wllb,  1 

sbiills 
From  Uie  to  sc.uliei 

Sbiln^ln  hia  Brm-olmir  wlille  tbe  fires 

Mil  with  ills  hearth  :  but  you— she's 

:  utrongi;  groom' d  and 

t  rBidt  with  those  detest- 


That  let  Qte  baniUng  scald  a 
Their  righle  nr  wrongs  lllio  t 
Thpy  »By  she's  comely  ;    tUei 


<d  her  of  her  lollj, 
id  tbe  tFBlnlng  of  a  cliild 


BliT, 

The  beannf  anc-  _, 

is  woman's  wledont. 

ThDs  tbe  hard  old  king: 


UFo: 


wbkli  1  beti 


It  wild  m 


rning  In  U 


And  on  the  "  Follow,  Collow,  tbou  shs 
I  thought  ou  all  the  wratlifui  ktnglit 
And  how  [he  strange  betrothment  wi 


Then 


It  bum 


King,  cfunp.  and  eoUega  tnrn'd  tohov 

I  soem'dlomoye  in  old  memorial  tills, 
And    dDinn;    battla    wlUi    fuiliiddBU 

To  druata   myself   the   Btuulow   ol  ( 

dream  : 
And  ere  I  woke  tl  vos  the  pi^nt  at 

Tbe  lists  were  ready.     Empanoplleil 

We  enlar'd  111,  and  waited,  fifty  lliere 
0[i[>oaed  to  fifty,  till  the  ttumiiet  lilanid 
At  the  barrier  like  a  nihl  iioni  la  a 

Of  eehoea.  and  a  momenl^  and  onoa 

The  ttnmpet,  and  again  ;  at  ivblcb  tba 

Of  galloping  hoots  bare  ou  the  ridge  ol 

And  lideia  front  to  front,  until  tbe; 

lu  confllet  with  tbe  cnub  of  Bhiverini 

And  thunder.    Yet  it  seem'd  B  dnon, 

1  dTesm'd 
Of  Dgbtlng.    Ou  Ms  bai 


21;  ' 


H  Intofleryspllnti 
the  lire. 


alearttbelft 


XHE  PRINCESS :  A  MEDLEY. 


167 


Farl  stninbled  mixt  with  floundering 

horses.    Down 
From  those  two  bulks  at  Arac's  side, 

and  down 
From  Arac's  Aim,  as  from  a  giant's  flail. 
The  large  blows  rain'd,  as  here  and 

everjrwhere 
He  rode  the  mellay,  lord  of  the  ringing 

lists. 
And  all  the  plain, — ^brand,  mace,  and 

shaft,  and  shield— 
Shock'd,  like  an  iron-clanging  anvil 

baDg'd 
With  hammers;  till  I  thought,  can  this 

be  he 
From  Gama's  dwarfish  loins  ?  if  this  be 

so. 
The  mother  makes  us  most— and  in  my 

dream 
I  glanced  aside,  and  saw  the  palace- 
front 
AUto  with  fluttering  scarfs  and  ladies* 

eyes, 
And  hijzhest,  among  the  statues,  statue- 
like. 
Between  a  cymbalM  Mll'lam  and  a  Jael, 
With  Psyche's  babe,  was  Ida  watching 

us, 
A  single  band  of  gold  about  her  hair. 
Like  a  Saint's  glory  up  in  heaven  :  but 

she 
Xo  saint — inexorable — no  tenderness— 
Too  hard,  too  cruel    yet  she  sees  me 

fight. 
Tea,  let  her  see  me  fall !  with  that  I 

draye 
Amonff  the  thickest  and  bore  down  a 

Prince, 
And  Cvril,  one.    Yea,  let  me  make  my 

dxeam 
All  that  I  would.  But  that  large-mould- 
ed man. 
His  visage  all  agrin  as  at  a  wake. 
Made  at  me  thro'  the  press,  and  stag- 
gering back 
With  stroke  on  stroke  the  horse  and 

horseman,  came 
As  comes  a  pillar  of  electric  cloud. 
Flaying  the  roofs  and  sucking  up  the 

c&ains, 
And  shadowing  down  the  champaign 

till  it  strikes 
On  a  wood,  and  takes,  and  breaks,  and 

cracks,  and  splits. 
And  twists  tbe  grain  with  such  a  roar 

that  Earth 
Beels,   and  the  herdsmen  cry ;    for 

everything 
Gave  way  before  him  :  only  Florlan, 

he 
That  loved  me  closer  than  his  own 

rigbt  eye. 
Thrust  in  between ;  but  Arac  rode  him 

down  : 
And  Cyril  seeing  it,  push'd  against  the 

Prince, 
With  Psyche's  color  round  his  helmet, 

tough, 
Btaxmg,  supple,  sinew-corded,  apt  at 

arms; 


But  tougher,  heavieri  stronger,  he  that 

smote 
And  threw  him :  last  I  spurr'd ;  I  f elt 

my  veins 
Stretch  with  fierce  heat ;  a  moment 

hand  to  hand. 
And  sword  to  sword,   and  horse  to 

horse  we  hung, 
Till  I  struck  out  and  shouted;    the 

blade  glanced; 
I  did  but  shear  a  feather,  and  dream 

and  truth 
Flow'd  from  me ;  darkness  closed  me ; 

and  I  fell. 


Home  they  broucht  her  warrior  deads 
She  nor  swooned,  nor  utter'dcry : 

All  her  maidens,  watching,  said, 
"  She  must  weep  or  she  will  die." 

Then  the^  praised  him,  soft  undlowj 
Caird  him  worthy  to  be  loved, 

Truest  friend  and  noblest  foe  ; 
Yet  she  neither  spoke  nor  moved* ; 

Stole  a  maiden  from  her  place, 
I-ightly  to  the  warrior  stept. 

Took  the  face-cloth  from  the  face ; 
Yet  she  neither  moved  nor  wept, 

Koso  a  nurse  of  ninety  years, 
Set  his  child  upon  her  knee — 

Liko  summer  tempest  came  her  tears* 
'*  Sweet  my  child,  I  live  for  thee," 

VI. 

My  dream  had  never  died  or  lived 

again. 
As  in  some  mystic  middle  state  I  lay ; 
Seeing  I  saw  not,  hearing  not  I  heard  : 
Tho'.  if  I  saw  not,  yet  they  told  mo  all 
So  often  that  I  speak  as  having  seen. 

For  so  it  seem'd,  or  so  they  said  to 

me. 
That  all  things  grew  more  tragic  and 

more  strange : 
That  when  our  side  was  vanquish'd 

and  my  cause 
For  ever  lost,  there  went  up  a  great 

cry. 
The  Prince  is  slain.    My  father  heard 

and  ran 
In  on  the  lists,  and  there  unlaced  my 

casque 
And  OTovell'd  on  my  body,  and  after 

him 
Came  Psyche,  sorrowing  for  AglaYa, 

But  high  upon  the  palace  Ida  stood 
With  Psyche's  babe  in  arm  :  there  on 

the  roofs 
Like  that  great  dame  of  Lapidoth  she 

sang. 

"  Our    enemies    have  fall'n,    have 
fall'n  :  the  seed, 
The  little  seed  they  laughed  at  in  th« 
dark, 


Has  riien  anrl  cyell  Uie  buI 
Of  tpajileSB  glclL,  that  leyi  on 
A  tlniiiB.ui.1  ariiig  ujid  tiib1i« 

"  Out   enoitilea   hare   (aU'n, 
fmll'ii :  llier  cams  ; 

toun;  lLe;henr>l 
A  iioLia  of  aoiigB  they  would  n 

The;  m&rkM  IC  Wltli  Ilia  red  crou 

Aud  woTi^d  bSTo  Btromi  it,  u 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 

We  vlll  be  liberal,  Bii 


But  wa  will  nialtB  It  fsgota 

hOMth. 

And  BliDDo  ii  plank  aud  beam  I 

or  the 
or  roof 

And  boat*  Hixd  bridges  tor  Uie 

uioof 

"Our  enemKa    biiTB    fall'n 

fsll'ii  :  Oiuy  Hlruck  ; 

■Witli  llieir  own  blows  lliey  hurl 

tbem- 

Thers'dweli  an  irau   uotoro 

n  the 

Tlio  EUttering  aia  was  broken  i 

illieir 

lahstter'dlatbeBliou 


B  tall'n,  but  tblB 


or  Autumn,  dropping  Irul [a  of 

and  roird 
■mthniuBtfl  iu  the  Browing  b 

The  lope  fhah  sUIke  Ij-om  star 


O  maldfl,  behold  our  aane- 
r  lawa  broken ;  fear  we 


To  bteak  them  n. 


d  In  our  anunls,  and  perpetual 
lames  and  heroines  of  Iho  gold- 


:    but  dmcend,  and  prolTe 


The  brei 


of  0 


HKl  and  oi 


Lie  bmleed  and 
01  female  baads 


lim'J,  the  leiidec 
hflBpltallty. 
Slie«txike,  and  with  the  bube  ; 
leipendiiiB.  bur^t   the  great   bronw 

^  hutrdred  m^ils  ij 

l-ark, 
ems  cowl'd,  and  enme  bare-headedi 

on  thej  cama, 
hair  feat  III  ftowBK.liorlovelleit:  by 
uinmor'd  oii  alglilng.  and  aa  tlieii 

I  the  high  tiae  Uia  bloaaom  warep- 
lug  tell, 

light  """"  "'"  '  " 

i,  ibe; 


And 


lorlng  under  shade  ;  bat 

foUon'd  :  bo  they  cams: 

Thro'  open  field  Into   the  Hats  they 

TlmDrouBl;  ;  and  as  the  leader  of  tbg 

That  holds  a  stately  frotwork  to  ttlB 

Sun, 
Aud  follow'd  np  by  a  hundred  alrj 

Steps  wllli  a  tondar  loot,  llglil  ai  on 

The  loiieiy.  lordly  crOBturo  floatod  on 


I  iiayd  i 

ne  knee,— tbs  child  on  oni 
la,  and  calVd  them  dear  di 
ly  warriorB,   i 

YOD  shall  not  lie  li 


tenta  but  Iibtl. 

nnraeit  by  those  for  whom  joa 

foujdit.  and  seryed 

'" — '■■ '-— i3s  aud  hoBpilality." 


And 
■With 

Then,  whether  moved  by  ihli,  ormi 
She  paet  my  hbj.  L'p  started  from  mj 
TbB  old  lion,  glaring  wiUi  Lis  whelp- 
Sllent:  but  when  she  aaw  me  lyiug 
Dislielni'dandmute,  and  niotlonlamly 


ColdO' 


she  BE 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


1G9 


She  hagsard  father's  face  and  reyer- 

end  beard 
Of  grisly  twiue,  all  dabbled  with  the 

blood 
Of  his  own  son,  shudder'd,  a  twitch  of 

pain 
Tortured  her  mouth,  and  o'er  her  f  ore- 
head  i)a8t 
A  shadow,  and  her  hue  changed,  and 

she  said: 
**  He  saved  my  life  :  my  brother  slew 

him  for  it." 
No  more :  at  which  the  king  in  bitter 

scorn 
Drew  from  my  neck  the  painting  and 

the  tress, 
And  held  them  up :  she  saw  them,  and 

a  day 
Bose  from  the  distance  on  her  memory, 
When  the  sood  Queen,  her  mother, 

shore  tne  tress 
"With  kisses,   ere  the  days  of  Lady 

Blanche : 
And  then  once  more  she  look'd  at  my 

pale  face : 
Till  understanding  all  the  foolish  work 
Of  Fancy,  and  the  bitter  close  of  all, 
Her  iron  will  was  broken  in  her  mind ; 
Her  noble  heart  was  molten  in  her 

breast; 
She  bow'd,  she  set  the  child  on  the 

earth ;  she  laid 
A  feeling  linger  on  my  brows,  and 

presently 
"  O  Sire,"  she  said,  "  he  lives  :  he  is 

not  dead : 
O  let  me  have  him  with  my  brethren 

here 
In  our  own  palace  :  we  will  tend  on  him 
Like  one  of  these  ;  if  so,  by  any  means. 
To  lighten  this  great  clog  of  thanks, 

that  make 
Our  progress  falter  to  the  woman's 

goiQ." 

She  said  :  but  at  the  happy  word  "he 
lives  " 

My  father  stoop'd,  re-father'd  o'er  my 
wounds. 

So  those  two  foes  above  my  fall'n  life. 

With  brow  to  brow  like  night  and  eve- 
nine  mixt 

Their  dark  and  gray,  while  Psyche  ever 
stole 

A  little  nearer,  till  the  babe  that  by  us, 

Half-lapt  in  glowing  gauze  and  golden 
brede, 

Lay  like  a  new-fall'n  meteor  on  the 
grass, 

XTncared  for,  spied  its  mother  and  began 

A  blind  and  babbling  laughter,  and  to 
dance 

Its  body,  and  reach  its  f atling  innocent 
arms 
1    And  lazy  lingering  fingers.  She  the  ap- 
peal 

Brooked  not,  but  clamoring  out,  <'  Mine 
—mine — not  yours, 

It  jbinot  yours,  but  mine ;  give  me  the 


I 


Ceased  all  on  tremble  :  piteous  was  the 

cry: 
So  stood  the  unhappy  mother  open- 

mouth'd. 
And  tum'd  each  face  her  way  :  wan 

was  her  cheek 
With  hollow  watch,  her  blooming  man- 
tle torn. 
Bed  grief  and  mother's  hunger  in  her 

eye. 
And  down  dead-heavy  sank  her  curls, 

and  half 
The  sacred  mother's  bosom,  panting, 

burst 
The  laces  toward  her  babe ;  but  she 

nor  cared 
Nor  knew  it,  clamoring  on,  till  Ida 

heard, 
Look'd  up,  and  rising  slowly  from  me, 

stood 
Erect  and   silent,  striking  with  her 

glance 
The  mother,  me,  the  child;   but  ha 

that  lay 
Beside  us,  Cyril,  battered  as  he  was, 
Trail'd  himself  up  on  one  knee ;  then 

he  drew 
Her  robe  to  meet  his  lips,  and  down 

she  look'd 
At  the  arm'd  man  sideways,  pitying  as 

it  seem'd. 
Or  self -involved ;  but  when  she  learnt 

his  face, 
Bemembering    his    ill-omen'd    song, 

arose 
Once  more  thro*  all  her  height,  and 

o'er  him  grew 
Tall  as  a  figure  lengthen'd  on  the  sand 
When  the  tide  ebbs  in  sunshine,  and 

he  said : 

"  O  fair  and  strong  and  terrible  I 

Lioness 
Tliat  with  your  long   locks  play  the 

Lion's  mane  ! 
But  Love  and  Nature,  these  are  two 

more  terrible 
And  stronger.  See,  your  foot  is  on  our 

necks, 
We  vanquiah'd,  you  the  Victor  of  your 

will. 
What  would  you  more?  give  her  the 

child!  remain 
Orb'd  in  your  isolation  :  he  is  dead. 
Or  all  as  dead  :  henceforth  we  let  you 

be : 
Win  you  the  hearts  of  women ;  and  be- 
ware 
Lest,  where  you  seek  the  common  love 

of  these, 
The  common  hate  with  the  revolving 

wheel 
Should  drag  vou  down,  and  some  great 

Nemesis 
Break  from  a  darken'd  future,  crown'd 

with  fire. 
And  tread  you  out  for  ever :  but  how- 

soe'er 
Fix'd  in  yourself,  never  in  your  own 

arms 


V 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY 


le  child  1    I 

leu  Uut  b 
>u  loved 


T  arm  tbut  dnn- 

Ot  own  oue  part  of  tense  not  flint  tc 

Cliel^er^hecMldl  or  it  you  Bcorn  tc 

lay  It, 
YounsU,  inlands  Hlatelj^claspt  Willi 


fault 


it  youji 


(Sfnelt^/vmeirelClier. 


lolIM 


Aiid-  Into  monmhJ  twillglit  mellow- 

^     iiiff,  dwelt 
run  on  Uifl  child;  Bhotookft:"  pretty 

Lndl 
UlyoIUieTBlal  half  apen'dl>enD[ the 

woods  1 
Colo  comfort  of  my  dork  hour,  when  a 

world 
Of  trBlIoroai  tii«nd  and  broken  eystem 

made 
No  purpla  In  the  dietance.  invetory, 

old, 
IVo  two  mnat  part :  and  yet  how  fain 

din  mine, 

Ihy  helplew  WBimth  about  my  barren 

Aa  true  to  lk^e°Ba  f  alee,  false,  f  alee  la 
And.  If  Ihon  iweda  nimt  beat  tie  yoke, 
iliekiaa'dit: 


To  dream  Ihyoanae  ami 
I  inlght  bu  Rumothlng  tc 


*'  All  good  go  w 


10  In  bis  hard-moiled 
DundtorsychonsBhe 


..._?tit,w  . 


moyc 


71i«n  Felt  It  suvnd  and  whole  from  h< 

to  toot, 
Andhugg'il.  and  never  hnge'd  it  cl 

Andlnhcrbungarmonth'd  and  mi 

bled  it, 
AndhldherhOTCmwlthlt:  . 


«illy; 


nd  wiau^ 


TEE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


171 


"SUm  had  yoa  got  a  friend  of  your  own 

ago. 
Now  could  you  share  your  thought ; 

now  should  men  see 
Two  women  faster  welded  in  one  love 
Than  pairs  of  wedlock ;  she  you  walk*d 

with,  she 
You  talk*a  with,  whole  nights  long,  up 

in  the  tower, 
Of  sine  and  arc,  spheroYd  and  azimuth, 
And  risht  ascension,  Heaven  knows 

what ;  and  now 
A  word,  but  one,  one  little  kindly  word. 
Not  one  to  spare  her :  out  upon  you, 

flint! 
You  love  nor  her,  nor  me,  nor  any ;  nay, 
You  shame  yonr  mother's  judgment 

too.    Not  one  ? 
You  will  not?   well — no  heart  have 

you, or  such 
As  fancies  like  the  vermin  in  a  nut 
Have  fretted  all  to  dust  and  bitter- 
ness." 
So  said  the  small  king  moved  beyond 

his  wont. 

But  Ida  stood  nor  sx>oke,  drained  of 

her  force 
By  many  a  varying  influence  and  so 

long. 
Down  thro*  her  limbs  a  drooping  lan- 
guor wept : 
Her  head  a  little  bent ;  and  on  her 

mouth 
A  doubtful  smile  dwelt  like  a  clouded 

moon 
In  a  still  water  :  then  brake  out  my  sire 
lifting  his  grim  head  from  my  wounds. 

"  O  you, 
■Woman,whom  we  thought  woman  even 

now. 
And  were  half  fooPd  to  let  you  tend 

our  son. 
Because  he  might  have  wish'd  it  —but 

we  see 
The  accomplice  of  your  madness  unf  or- 

given, 
And  think   that  you  might  mix  his 

draught  with  death, 
'When  your  skies  change  agahi :  the 

rougher  hand 
Is  safer  :  on  to  the  tents  :  take  up  the 

Prince." 

He  rose,   and  while  each  ear  was 

prick'd  to  attenil 
A  tempest,  thro*  the  cloud  that  dimm'd 

her  broke 
A  genial  warmth  and  light  once  more, 

and  shone 
Thro*  glittering  drops  on  her  sad  friend. 

"  Come  hither, 
O  Psyche,"  she  cried  out,  **  embrace 

me.  oomOf 
Quick  wnile  I  melt ;  make  reconcile- 
ment sure 
"With  one  that  cannot  keep  her  mind 

an  hour : 
CSome  to  the  hollow  heart  they  slander 

so! 


Kiss  and  be  friends,  like  children  being 

chid! 
/seem  no  more:  I  want  forgiveness 

too: 
I  should  have  had  to  do  with  none  bnt 

maids. 
That  have  no  links  with  men.  Ah  falsa 

but  dear. 
Dear  traitor,  too  much  loved,  why  ?— 

why? — Yet  see. 
Before  these  kings  we  embrace  you  yet 

once  more 
With  all  forgiveness,  all  oblivion, 
And  trust,  not  love,  you  less. 

And  now,  O  sire. 
Giant  me  your  son,  to  nurse,  to  wait 

upon  him. 
Like  mine  own  brother.    For  my  debt 

to  him. 
This  nightmare  weight  of  gratitude,  I 

know  it ; 
Taunt  me  no  more :  yourself  andyoum 

shall  have 
Free  adit ;  we  will  scatter  all  our  maids 
Till  happier  times  each  to  her  proper 

hearth: 
W^hat  use  to  keep  them  here— now? 

grant  my  praver. 
Help,  father,  brother,  help  ;  speak  to 

the  kiuff : 
Thaw  this  male  nature  to  some  touch 

of  that 
Which  kills  me  with  myself,  and  drags 

me  down 
From  my  fixt  height  to  mob  me  up  with 

all 
The  soft  and  milky  rabble  of  woman- 
kind, 
Poor  weakling  ev*n  as  they  are." 

Passionate  tears 
Follow*d  :  the  king  replied  not :  Cyril 

said  : 
Your  brother.  Lady,  —  Florian,  —  ask 

for  him 
Of  your  great  head— for  he  is  wounded 

too — 
That  you  may  tend  upon  him  with  the 

prince.'* 
"  Ay  so,"  said  Ida  with  a  bitter  smile, 
"  Our  laws  are  broken :  let  him  enter 

too.** 
Then  Violet,  she  that  sang  the  mourn- 
ful song. 
And  had  a  cousin  tumbled  on  the  plain, 
Petition'd  too  for  him.    "  Ay  so,"  she 

said, 
"  I  stagger  in  the  stream :  I  cannot 

keep 
My  heart  an  eddy  from  the  brawling 

hour : 
We  break  our  laws  with  ease,  but  let  it 

be." 
'*  Ay  so?"   said  Blanche:    "Amazed 

am  I  to  hear 
Your  Highness  :    but  your  Highness 

breaks  with  ease 
The  law  your  Highness  did  not  make : 

*t  was  I. 
I  had  been  wedded  wife.  I  knew  man- 
kind. 


\ 


TUE  PRINCESS  .■  A  MEDLEY. 


1  blook'd  thein  ont ;  but  Cbtie  m 
Toot  ™ItgliJieM- vertly  I   tliiuk 


ruU'd  hj  an  (mcUK|u& 


3r'J.  lull  of  piet  Mid 


"  Fling  our  doom  wide  t  all,  a 
oils,  liut  All, 
Kol  only  hs,  but  by  my  motlmr' 


TUl  Ui 


byu| 


trbevlll.  I 
mdiel  ~ 


Lt  bod 


irglrlBllll, 


break*  tbo  Pbaros  f  pom 

B»d  loft  UB  rock.  She  tain  would  iting 

Jlnt  (bttllniJt.    PnisB,  and  iHinglo  ullb 

vouiUkaa. 
Wo  brook  no  foitbac  Insult  but  are 


rain. 


Tbenns  they  lifted 
Etntlgbt  Id  lbs  ilooi 
QrouiliiK,    nnd  lu  t 


i  i  tbo  1  cry  napo  ol  her 
wllb  Indlgiiallon  :  but  tlic 
'  came ;  Uu>  hln^  bor  [aUier 
tdeouJ  ^UiiTorda:  nor  did 
proEcr,   lastly  govo  bis 


'Slglltl, 


jrirmilimlB; 
:  but  great  tbo  ctUEb  was,  si 


To  lelt  and  tluht,  iT  tliot 
In  lilkiiTi  fluctuRlIon  an.l 


Bow-buL-k-dwitbCDar 


DnecndiniF.  atmcl;  KthmLrt 
A  flying  Bplaiidor  ont  of  brus  i 


BtntstuBlj 
tUrholm, 


Ot  trlgbt  lu  far  aptirtiDc 
Ofldawnm 


Tlier 


tbe  broad  iiain, 
Tbo  long-laid  Eallorlcs  past  a  bundled 
To  one  daep  c^anibflt  ahui  liom  aoaud, 

Td  taiiEttid  Itmbs  oitil  BlckneH;  let! 

me  in  it  5 
And  otbeis  oUmrubcra  tbcy  laid ;  anil 

all 
That  nftrmoon  a  Bound  nnH  ot  luwf 


TWlinPiJtor  ti 

of  lllOBB 

llcM  sigrm,  1 

From  IbOBs't 

ilie  wall 

WalkM  at  tbi 


ralntl 


>lbal  lay  betide 
.  Bill)  ereqrlblul 


riUi  fold  lo  told,  ofmi 


i 


It  man  witb  Tolling  ejes 


these,  a!!  «ll«nt, 
IT  jingled,  vblle 


wu  tbetr  annctuai?  TioUtCil. 
p>iiitii»loii :  by  Bi 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


173 


Sireet  order  livotl  again  \7lth  other 

laws: 
A  kindlier  influence  reign'd;     and 

everywhere 
I4OW  voices  with  the  ministering  hand 
Hang  round  the  sick :   the   maidens 

came,  they  talk'd, 
They  sang,  they  read :  till  she  not  fair, 

began 
To  gather  light,  and  she  that  was,  he- 
came 
Her  former  beauty  treble  ;  and  to  and 

fro 
"With  books,  with  flowers,  with  Angel 

offices, 
Lilce  creatures  native  unto  gracious  act, 
And  in  their  own  clear  clement  they 

moved. 

But  sadness  on  the  soul  of  Ida  fell. 
And  hatred   of  her  weakness,   blent 

with  shame. 
Old  studies  faiVd ;  seldom  she  spoke  ; 

but  oft 
Clorab  to  the  roofs,  and  cased  alone 

for  hours 
On  that  disastrous  leaguer,  swarms  of 

men 
Darkening  her  female  flcld :  void  was 

her  use. 
And  she  as  one  that  climbs  a  peak  to 

gaze 
O'er  land  and  main,  and  sees  a  great 

black  cloud 
Drag  inwards  from  the  deeps,  a  wall  of 

night, 
Blot  out  the  slope  of  sea  from  verge  to 

shore. 
And  suck  the  blinding  splendor  from 

the  sand, 
And  quenching  lake  by  lake  and  tarn 

by  tarn 
IZxpiuige  the  world  :  so  fared  she  gaz- 
ing there : 
So  blacken'd  all  her  world  in  secret, 

blank 
And  waste  it  seem'd  and  vain  ;  till 

down  she  came, 
And  found  fair  peace  once  more  among 
the  sick. 

And  twilight  dawn'd ;  and  morn  by 
mom  the  lark 
Shot  up  and  shrill'din  flickering  gyres, 
but  I 

Lay  silent  in  the  muffled  caf  0  of  life  : 

And  twilight  gloom'd  ;    and  broader- 
grown  the  bowers 

Drew  the  great  night  into  themselves, 
and  Heaven, 

Star  after  star,  arose  and  fell ;  but  I, 

l>eeperthan  those  weird  doubts  could 
reach  me,  lay 

Quite  Bunder'd  from  the  moving  Uni- 
verse, 

Nor  knew  what  eye  was  on  me,  nor  the 
hand 

Thftt  nursed  me,  more  than  infants  in 
thoir  sloop. 


But  Psyche  tended  Floriah:   with 

her  oft, 
Melissa  came  :  for  Blanche  had  gone, 

but  left 
Her  child  among  us,  willing  she  should 

keep 
Court-favor  :  here  and  there  the  small 

bright  head, 
A  light  of  healing,  glanced  about  th3 

couch. 
Or  thro'  the  parted  silks  the  tender 

face 
Peep'd,  shining  in  upon  the  wounded 

man' 
"With  blush  and  smile,  a  medicine  in 

themselves 
To  wile  the  length  from  languorous 

hours,  and  draw 
The  sting  from  pain ;    nor  seem'd  it 

strange  that  soon 
He  rose  up  whole,  and  those  fair  chari- 
ties 
Join'd  at  her  side ;  nor  stranger  seem'd 

that  liearts 
So  gentle,  so  employ'd,  should  close  in 

love, 
Than  when  two  dew-drops  on  the  petal 

shake 
To  the  same  sweet  air,  and  tremble 

deeper  down. 
And  slip  at  once  all-fragrant  into  one. 

Less  prosperously  the  second  suitob* 

tain'd 
At  first  witli  Psyche.  Kot  tho'  Blanche 

had  sworn 
That  after  that  dark  night  among  the 

fields. 
She  needs  must  wed  him  for  her  own 

good  name ; 
Not   tho'  he  built  upon  the  babe  re- 
stored ; 
Nor  tho'  she  liked  him,  yielded  she, 

butfear'd 
To  incense  the  Head  once  more ;  till  on 

a  day 
When  Cyril  pleaded,  Ida  came  behind 
Seeu  but  of  Psyche  :  on  her  foot  she 

hung 
A  moment,  and  she  heard,  at  which 

her  face 
A  little  fiush'd,  and  she  past  on ;  but 

each 
Assumed  from  thence  a  half-consent 

involved 
In  stillness,  plighted  troth,  and  were  at 

peace. 

Nor  only  these  :  Love  in  the  sacred 

halls 
Held  carnival  at  will,  and  flying  struck 
With  showers  of  random  sweet  on  maid 

and  man. 
Nor  did  her  father  cease  to  press  my 

claim, 
Nor  did  mine  own  now  reconciled ;  nor 

yet 
Did  those  twin  brothers,  risen  again 

and  whole ; 
Nor  Araci  satiato  with  his  victory. 


V 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


But  I  lay  (tin,  and  irllh  me  ott  ihe 

Tben  citnie  a  Tbnnge ;  tot  enmellmea  I 

Her  huiil  In  wild  dolirlam,  Gtipe  U 

And  fling  Vt  llkn  n  Tiptit  OIT.  nndiliriek 
'■  Yon  are   jiOT  Ida ; "   cluep  A  oute 

id  c^he'i  Ids,  Iho'  T  knev  her  not. 

And  coll  LT''hInl  mid  "culd  VMcli 
Kem'd  H  tniU] : 

Blill  Bho  fsHf  d  t)ut  I  Bliould  Hue 
mj  mind, 
And  oFteu  alie  beliBTfld  iliat  1  «bDuH 


And  half  Iha  wolTi. 


Tin  oi 


die: 


longt™ 


when  iJooka 


a  dead,  t1io  d 


And  WKtrhca 
when  iJ< 
Jb'd  thui 

vlIIS'Timo^rom  all  their  irtlvor 

outDfVnBinotlBS  of  hoc  kindlier 
davB, 
And  Birfelcnig  glancos  nt  my  fauier's 

nb   ine   happy  lovers,  heart  in 

And  out  of  hrtunliiiBs   at  my  Bpoimn 

And  Inne)}"  llBtonings  to  mymntler'J 


UiBSe, 
Lots,  lik'i  an  Alplni 


er  IntewBt  flour!  sh'dup, 
leli  by  touch,  audlBist,  tu 


ByK. 


uinmlng  glaFler ;  frail  a 
IB  <i(  llsel 


LoitTvnke 


r'd  tolor  day  by  day. 

B,  hut  weltaigh  cIdbo 

a;  It waa  evening !Bi1=tit 

s  painted  walls,  wliorclu 
.  .  .'rought 
Two  granil  dealgnB  ;    Cor  on  ona  side 


I   up   In 


volt,  a 


the  Oppinn  law.    Titaitio  ahapes 


uBh'd   n 


thi 
The  fori 

tilt  .  „. 
L  dwarf-like  Cnto  iMHOr'd.     On  the 

other  Bide 
Bortenala  spake  agiUnst  the  tax ;  be- 

A  train  of  tlampB  :  liy  axe  and  esile  Mt, 
'-Ih  all  tbfir  forehefldt  drawuln  Ito- 


bIUe  ennlled  tm 
"id  before  it] 


The  fierce  triumvli 

Honan.lo,  pleadins  :    anEfy  ku   her 

I"»J'^.*™"^  ■  IkMwnoHrtie™    I 
They  did  but  look  liko  hollow  ahtnpa  ; 
Sweet  Ids :  palm  to  palm  aho  aat : 
Dwelt  in  her  eyes,  siiU  softer  nU 

And  rounder  aeeni'il  ;    i    movnl 

Bi4h'd :  a  loarh 
Came  round  niy  wnsi,  and  tears  u 

Than  Bllfor  laiignocan.l  selr-pltyr 
"■  >iiownmrIa™,auaivit]iwluiiii(a 
And  like  a  flowec  that  cannot  all  nti- 
Sodiviith'dtt  iB 
Xet,4""'nuiy.t 


ly  tBinb 


If  you  bfliWhatllhlnXyoa.wma    , 
ouldbutMkyo'uto  fulfll  jonm 
t  II  yon  be  that  Ida  whom  1  kiisi 
!k  yon  notbliiB :  oniy,  if  j,  flriwii 


-night. 


die." 
mil  J  ni 


audBceoi  tokiiH  n 


0,  but  1 


lay  Lke  oi 

lean  hlB  burial  talk'd  of  b 

es  and  ijreadB  hin  doom,    ShB  i 

She  Btoop'd ;  and  out  iil  langaor  leapt 

Lenpt  flar^PoBilon  fcom  ILe  brfnktcf 

c  llvlnaworld  i 
.■a  at  the  np.!  , 


ibeltev'ei 

TlTl  biwk  1  ft 


le  Shan 


or  falBer  aelt  allpl  ftui 

nd  left  iier  woman,  lovelier 
mood 
Thnn  In  bet  mould  that  other,  wlMB 

From  barren  deeps  to  conqaer  all  wllk 

And  dowu  the  stresniin~  crystal  dtopl; 

~      "     ■    I  by  the  pnrple  Island-fldel, 
louble  ll^it  111  III,'  and  wava. 


THE' PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY, 


17S 


To  meet  her  Graces,  where  they  deck'd 

her  out 
For  worship  without  end ;  nor  end  of 

mine, 
Stateliest,  for  fhee  I  but  mute  she 

{glided  forth, 
Xor  glanced  behind  her,  and  I  sank 

and  slept, 
Fiird  thro'  and  thro»   with  Love,  a 

happy  sleep. 

2>eep  In  the  night  I  woke  :  she,  near 

me,  held 
A  Tolume  of  the  Poets  of  her  land  : 
There  to  herself,  all  in  low  tones,  she 

read. 

•*  Now  sleeps  the  crimson  i>etal,  now 

the  white ; 
TSot  waves  the  cypress  in  the  palace 

walk; 
Kor  winks  the  gold  fin  in  the  porphyry 

font: 
The  fire-fly  wakens :  waken  thou  with 

me. 

**Now    droops  the  milk-white  pea^ 
rock  like  a  ghost. 
And  like  a  ghost  she  glimmers  on  to 
me. 

**  Now  lies  the  Earth  all  DanaS  to 
the  stars, 
And  all  thy  heart  lies  open  unto  me. 

"Now slides  the  silent  meteor  on, 
and  leaves 
A  shining  furrow,  as  thy  thoughts  in 
me. 

•*  Now  folds  the  lily  all  her  sweetness 

up, 
And  slips  into  the  bosom  of  the  lake  : 
So  fold  thyself,  my  dearest,  thou,  and 

slip 
Into  my  bosom  and  be  lost  in  me." 

I  heard  her  turn  the  page;  she  found 
a  small 
Sweet  Idyl,  and  once  more,  as  low,  she 
read  : 

**  Come  down,  O  maid,  from  yonder 

mountain  height  : 
What  pleasure  lives  in   height   (the 

shepherd  sang) 
In  height  and  cold,  the  splendor  of  the 

hills  ? 
But  cease  to  move  so  near  the  Hea- 
vens, and  cease, 
To  glide  a  sunbeam  by  the  blasted 

Pine, 
To  sita  star  upon  the  sparkling  spire  : 
And  come,  for  Love  is  of  the  valley, 

come. 
For  Love  is  of  the  valley,  come  thou 

down 
And  find  him ;  by  the  happy  threshold, 

he. 
Or  h«nd  in  hand  with  Plenty  in  the 

mfUgQ, 


I 


Or  red  with  spirted  purple  of  the  vatB, 
Or  foxlike  in  the  vine  ;  nor  cares  to 

walk 
With  Death  and  Morning  on  the  silver 

horns, 
Nor  wilt  thou  snare  him  in  the  white 

ravine. 
Nor  find  him  dropt  upon  the  firths  of 

ice. 
That  huddling  slant  in  furrow-cloven 

falls 
To  roll  the  torrent  out  of  dusky  doors: 
But   follow ;   let   the   torrent    dance 

thee  down 
To  find  him  in  the  valley;  let  the  wild 
Lean-headed  Eagles  yelp  alone,  and 

leave 
The  monstrous  ledges  there  to  slope, 

and  spill 
Their  thousand  wreaths  of  dangling 

water-smoke, 
That  like  a  broken  purpose  waste  in 

air  : 
So  waste  not  thou  ;  but  come  ;  for  all 

the  vales 
Await  thee ;  azure  pillars  of  the  heanh 
Arise  to  thee  ;  the  children  call,  and  I 
Thy  shepherd  pipe,  and  sweet  is  every 

sound. 
Sweeter  thy  voice,  but  every  sound  is 

sweet ; 
Myriads  of  rivulets  hurrying  thro*  the 

lawn, 
The  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms, 
And  murmuring  of  innumerable  bees." 

So  she  low-toned  ;  while  with  shut 

eyes  I  lay 
Listening  ;  then  look*d.    Pale  was  the 

perfect  face  ; 
The  bosom  with  long  sighs  labor'd  ; 

and  meek 
Seem'd  the  full  iips,  and  mild  the  lu- 
minous eyes, 
And  the  voice  trembled  and  the  hand. 

She  said 
Brokenly,  that  she  knew  it,  she  had 

failed 
In  sweet  humility  ;  had  fail'd  in  all  ; 
That  all  her  labor  was  br.t  as  a  block 
Left  in  the  quarry  ;  but  she  still  were 

loath, 
She  still  were  loath  to  yield  herself  to 

one, 
That  wholly  8corn*d  to  help  their  equal 

lights 
Against  the  sons  of  men,  and  barbarous 

laws. 
She  pray'd  me  not  to  judge  their  cause 

from  her 
That  wrong'd  it,  sought  far  less  for 

truth  than  power 
In  knowledge  :  something  wild  within 

her  breast, 
A  greater  than  all  knowledge,  beat  her 

down. 
And  she  had  nursed  me  there   from 

week  to  week  : 
Much  had  she  learnt  in  little  time.    14 

part 


T 


rilF.  PRINCESS:  A  UEDLET. 


Birl- 
"  Ah  fool,  nrid  randa  mjseU  a  Queen 

tUliik. 
nil  ths  Hun  drop  dead  from  tlie  BlgnB." 

ChukMl.  Olid  lier  foretieml  BBok  upon 

And  lier  peal  li'eail  tliro'  all  the  fault' 

(ulPmt 
Went  aurniwliig  In  n  paiue  I  duod  nob 

Till  iiollco  'g(  a.  chsnge  In  tLo  dark 

'WullipIiibonlUieu&Glaa.  and  >  bird. 
Tlimt  «Mly  woka  tn  t.iBd  her  UtilH  .mfs, 
Sunt  ttom  e,  dowy  breutn  eiy  lor  llKbl: 
&lis  inoveil,  aud  at  her  leet  flie  volume 
tall. 

"  Blame  nnt  Ihyinir  too  mneli,"  I 

■aid, "  nor  I'Utiib 
Too  mueh  tha  tuni  of  men  and  barba- 

rouB  lavtH  ; 
Tlicaa   were   ibu   rouch  waya  ol  tlie 

world  till  now. 
Hencefunb  thou  Last  a  liolper,  me, 

ttiat  know 
TbD  wDinan'i  cause  le  man's  :  lliey  riao 

Together,  dwacfd or  godllkoi  bonder 

For  iha  that  ont  o(  Lotlio  acalea  with 

The  ililnlnic  BtepB  of  Katnre,  ehaice 

HlanlRhts,  hie  day«,  mores  wlUi  him 

Stay*  all  the  fair  yoang  planet  hi  her 

If  (he  be  ■mull.sUght-natured,  inlaeru- 


Ldghi, 


wthe 


reatling   Omtn   lliat 

'■-   - '-     faillneli 


Like  pcrfwl 


Slie  manUl  breadtli, 

Kor  luee  the  idiildlike  la  the 
last  ehe  »t  heiwlf 

»  noble 

•on  tlieaklrua 

Sit, Bids  ij  bMb.  Iull-«unm'd  In  all 

DisMniinir harvest,  snwIiiK  the  To^, 

nisdnet  in'  IniUvldnHlittes. 
But  like  cauh  other  eVu  a 


Then  comea  tin 
Then  reign  Ibt 


lllOKWilB 

atelier  Eden  back  to 

■orld'a  great  bridali, 

Then  Bpriiiga  the  crowuina  jaee  c 

mamtlnd.  " 

May  theSE  IhinjiB  be  !  " 

Tl«,  will -■!''*«  ■'"■"'•■' 
"Dear,  but  let  na  tjpo 
1°    "ur    own    lives,  and    thte  priwd 

or  equal ;  aoelne  either  »ei  skine 
iBlialf  ItBDir.  and  lii  true  marriage  tie. 
Nor  eqnal,  nor  unequal :  caeh  liiilllt 
Detect  In  eaeb,  aad  always  Uioughlln 


a  B^le'j 


And  agaln-BlghlnB  ehn  aj 

hst   oneo   waa  mine  1  what  wonuii 
iaaghtyouthui  V" 

"  Alone  "  I  Bald  "  from  earlier  tliil 

mnierecd  In  ilch  lorertinJowlagi  ol 

loved  Iho  woman  :  he,  thai  dolh  not, 

5dtnaweei 


dCHlll, 


«lns'd  aff  estloiis  eltpt  wUh 

Yet  woB  Ihero  one  thro"  whom  I  loved  I 

her.  one 
Not  learned,  uve  In  graclona  1 

Not  p^eet,  nay.  but  full  of  lender 


'""' 


THE  PRINCESS:  A  MEDLEY. 


Who  look'd  all  naUve  to  her  place,  and 

yet 
On  tiptoe  aeem'd  to  toach  upon  a  sphere 
Too  gross  to  tread,  and  all  male  minds 

perforce 
Sway*d  to  her  from  their  orbits  as  thej 

moved. 
And  girdled  her  with  music.  Happy  he 
WiUi  such  a  mother  !  faith  in  woman- 
kind 
Beats  with  his  blood,  and  trust  in  all 

things  hiffh 
Comes  easy  to  him,  aud  tho'  he  trip 

and  fall 
He  shall  not  blind  his  soul  with  clay.*' 

««ButI," 
Said  Ida,  tremulously,  **  so  all  unlike— 
It  seems  you  love  to  cheat  yourself 

with  words : 
This  mother  is  your  model.  Ihaveheard 
Of   your  strange   doubts  :  they  well 

might  be  :  I  seem 
A  mockery  to  my  own  self.    Never, 

Prince ; 
You  cannot  love  me/' 

«*  Nay  but  thee  "I  said 
**  From  yearlong  poring  on  thy  pictured 

eyes, 
Ere  seen  I  loved,  and  loved  thee  seen, 

and  saw 
Thee  woman  thro*  the  crust  of  iron 

moods 
That  mask'd  thee  from  men's  reverence 

up,  and  forcett 
Sweet  love  on  pranks  of  saucy  boyhood : 

now, 
Giv'n  back  to  life,  to  life  indeed,  thro' 

thee. 
Indeed  I  love :  the  new  day  comes,  the 

light 
Dearer  for  night,  as  dearer  thou  for 

faults 
lived  over :  lift  thine  eyes  ;  my  doubts 

are  dead, 
My  haunting  sense  of  hollow  shows ; 

the  change. 
This  truthful  change  in  thee  has  kill'd 

it.    Dear, 
Look  up,  and  let  thy  nature  strike  on 

mine, 
Like  yonder  morning  on  the  blind  half- 
world  ; 
Approach  and  fear  not ;  breathe  upon 

my  brows  J 
In  that  tine  air  I  tremble,  all  the  past 
Melts  mist-like  into  XMa  bright  hour, 

and  this 
Is  morn  to  more,  and  all  the  rich  to- 
come 
Reels,  as  the  golden  Autumn  woodland 

reels 
Athwart  the  smoke  of  burning  weeds. 

Forgive  me, 
I  waste  my  heart  in  signs  :  let  be. 

My  bride. 
My  wife,  my  life.    O  we  will  walk  this 

world, 
Yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  end, 
And  so  thro'  those  dark  gates  across 

the  wild 


177 

Indeed  I  lova 


That  no  man  knows. 

thee  :  come. 
Yield  thyself  up  :  my  hopes  and  thine 

are  one : 
Accomplish  thou  my   manhood    and 

thys^f  ; 
Lay  thy  sweet  hands  in  mhie  aud  trust 

to  me." 


CONCLUSION. 

So  closed  our  tale,  of  which  I  give  yen 
all 

The  random  scheme  as  wildly  as  it  rose : 

The  words  are  mostly  mine  ;  for  when 
we  ceased 

There  came  a  minute's  pause,  and 
Walter  said, 

"  I  wish  she  had  not  yielded  ! "  then 
to  me, 

«*  What,  if  you  drest  it  up  poetically  I " 

So  pray'd  the  men,  the  women  :  1  gave 
assent: 

Yet  how  to  bind  the  scattered  scheme 
of  seven 

Together  in  one  sheaf?  What  style 
could  suit  ? 

The  men  required  that  I  should  give 
throughout 

The  sort  of  mock-heroic  ({iKantesque, 

With  which  we  bantei-'d  little  Lilia  first: 

The  women — and  perhaps  they  felt 
their  power. 

For  something  in  the  ballads  which 
they  sang. 

Or  in  their  silent  influence  as  they  sat. 

Had  ever  seem'd  to  wrestle  with  bur- 
lesque. 

And  drove  us,  last,  to  quite  a  solemn 
close — 

They  hated  banter,  wished  for  some- 
thing real, 

A  gallant  nght,  a  noble  princess — why 

Not  make  lier  true-neroic— true-sub- 
lime? 

Or  all,  they  said,  as  earnest  as  the  close? 

Which  yet  with  such  a  framework 
scarce  could  be. 

Then  rose  a  little  feud  betwixt  the  two. 

Betwixt  the  mockers  and  the  realists : 

And  I,  betwixt  them  both,  to  please 
them  both. 

And  yet  to  give  the  story  as  it  rose, 

I  moved  as  in  a  strange  diagonal. 

And  may  be  neither  pleased  myself  nor 
them. 

But  Lilia  pleased  me,  for  she  took  no 

part 
In  our    dispute  :  the   sequel  of    the 

tale 
Had  touch'd  her  ;  and  she  sat,  she 

pluck'd  the  grains, 
She  flung  it  from  her,  thinking  :  last, 

she  fixt 
A  showery  glance  upon  her  aunt,  and 

said, 
**  You  —  tell  us  what  w©  are "  who 

might  have  told, 


V 


1 

ITS                      THE  PRINCESS:  A  XEDLHT. 

^1 

Fir  Bhe  wu  cnunm-d  with  il.vurlei  out 

•<  nave  patience,"  I  teplied,    "  out. 

olbouki, 

But  Uwt  UierB  tosB  a  aliout :  the  saW" 

Ot  social  wrong;  and  maybe  wUiIe*! 

»q«  ^i™«l 

At  auiiBot.  aiia  the  crowd  ware  Evtarin- 

liigi>o».                      . 

To  taHe  tlMjli  leaTC,  aboal  llio  eacdeii 

For  mo,  tile  genial  riay.lheliBppTrrOwil. 

ndlB. 

The  sport  liaU-acience,  fill  me'  oitli  ■ 
TlilB  flne  old  world  of  ouia  U  but  i 

»e  eliml.'d 

oMld 

Th8  Blope  to  Vlvlau-placa,  aiid  tnmiiie 

Tet  in  Uie  go-cart.    Patience  t    Girell 

Uioe 

The  hTpM  -vallej*,  Lalliii  light,  t.id 

To  loam  io  llmhs :  there  ii  a  hindtkal 

Gny  bal^nlaiie  *RU>iig  tbelt  lutueivo 

In  Buch  dincauTBe  wo  eain'd  IhA  vnr. 

den  tails,                                    ' 

Trim  EajnlstB  ;  here  and  thara  a  niatlo 

And  there  »o  saw  Sir  ^Vaiter  where  he 

Before  a  tower  of  crimson  holly-oaks, 
Among  sU  boys,  head  under  h^,  aSd 

HhU-Idb^  in  helU  of  liop  and  breodtliB 

ol  wheat ; 

louk'd 

ThB  BlitmiDering  gUnipBeB  ot  a  Btreaoi ; 

No  little  my-handed  Baronet  he. 

^  ^™^hm^;            "'"^  '^''"^  ^B- 

A  red  Ball,  or  a  wlille ;  and  tar  beyond, 

ImsgiiiBii  liiora  Uiaii  aecu,  Ihe  Bldria 

ol  Fraucd. 

A  raiser  of  huge  melons  und  ot  uiiie 
A  patron  of  some  thirty  diarlUes, 

Goilogs  (tioiiC^ 

A  quartei-sesBiona    choiiman,    ablei 

Fnirj!12?'d'and  roddot  than  a  wludy 

Ood  hlB»  rtiB  narrow  tea  whiuh  keeps 

"^f^'                        .    .       ,., 

now  S^V  lutndB  wilh  him,   mw 
him,  of  those 

And  koepe  our  Bntaiii,  whole  wlUiiii 

heraelt, 

That  Hood  the  ucaicBt—now  addren'd 

A  nation  yet,  the  rulers  and  tJio  rul^rl— 

toBpaeeh- 

--S"  """"••"»«""'""' 

■WhoBpoke^few  words  and  pithy,  tud> 

Some  leTerence  for  the  laws  ourselves 

Welcome,  ^irewell,  and  welcoms  tor 

Some  patloiit  (o'rco  to  change    tliem 

To  follow:   a  Bhont  roee  uaiu,  aiid 

when  we  will. 

Soma  civic  manliood  flnu  agaltut  the 

But    ™ider  whiff  1  tharo    tonieB  a 

From  the  elms,  and  shook  Hie  braudiei 

■uddeti  Iliac, 

ot  the  deer 

The  graieit  oltlien  leems  to  lose  hla 

From  slope  W  alope  thro'dlataut  fem, 

The  king  ii»carad,11ie  soldier  will  not 

Beyond  the  bourn  of  snniet ;  a  ashiHiL 

llKbtH 

More  toy  fui  tlian  the  oity-roai  that  huli 

The  little  hoys  begin  to  Bhoot  and  gWb, 

Premier  or  king  1  WhjahouhluoiOicw 

A  kingdom  topple,  oyer  with  a  shriek 

great  Sin 

CI  re  up  their  parks  gome  doxen  tlniH 

1 

To  let  the  people  breathe?    So  UiriM 

J 

In  mock  heroics  stranger  then  onr  own; 

■ 

Ko  graver  than  a  achool  hoya'  barring 

they  cried. 

■ 

I  likewise,  and  in  gtoupB  thejf  atream'i 

1 

Too  comic' toe  the  solemn  Ihings  Ihey 

H 

But  we  went  back  tn  iho  Abbey.aoi  W 

Too  Bolemn  tor  the  comle  tuucLes  lu 

sat  on,                                               ■ 

them. 

So    mpcli    the     gathering     daiknM  ■ 

UkeouTwild  Princess  with  us  wIbs  b 

charm'd ;  wb  sat                             M 

dream 

ButBpokenot,cautlniUkmeIeBateTOr  lil 
Perhaps  upou  the  future  uiaii  i  Um  T 

As  Bome  ot  Ihelrs-God  bleu  the  i.at- 

wallB                                                  1 

t  wlsh"lhe¥  were  a  whole  AUanllo 
broad.*' 

Black-n'd  about  os,  hala  wheel-d,  lal 
owiawhoop'd, 

L 

H 

^1 

1 

ENOCH  ARDEN. 


173 


And  gradually  the  powers  of  the  night, 
That  rause  above  the  region  of  the 

wina. 
Deepening  the  courts  of  twilight  broke 

tiiemup 
Thro'  all  the  silent  spaces  of  the  worlds. 
Beyond  all  thought  into  the  Heayen  of 

Ueayeus. 

Last  little  Lilia,  rising  quietly, 
Disrobed  the  glimmering  statue  of  Sir 

Balph 
From  those  rich  silks,  and  home  well- 

pleasea  we  went. 


ENOCH  ARDEN. 


JjOSQ  lines  of  cliff  breaking  have  left  a 

chasm; 
And  in  the  chasm  are  foam  and  yellow 

sands  ; 
Beyond,    red   roofs  about  a  narrow 

wharf 
In  cluster ;  then  a  moulder'd,  church ; 

and  hieher 
A  long  street  ^mbs  to  one  tall-tower'd 

mill , 
And  high  in  heaven  behind  it  a  gray 

down 
With  Danish  barrows;  and  a  hazelwooci, 
By  autumn  nutters  haunted,  flourishes 
Greeu  in  a  cuplike  hollow  of  the  down. 

Here  on  this  beach  a  hundred  j-ears  ago, 
Three  childreu  of  three  houses,  Annie 

Lee, 
The  prettiest  little  damsel  in  the  x>ort, 
And  Jfhilip  Ray  the  miller's  only  son. 
And  Enoch  Arden  a  rough  sailor's  lad 
Made  orphan  by  a  winter  shipwreck, 

play'd 
Among  the  waste  and  lumber  of  the 

shore, 
Hard  coils  of  cordage,  swarthy  fishing- 
nets. 
Anchors  of  rusty  fluke,  and  boats  up- 
drawn  ; 
And  built  their  castles  of  dissolving 

sand 
To  watch  them  overflowed,  or  following 

up 
And  flyng  the  white  breaker,  daily  left 
The  Uitle  footprint  daily  wauh'd  away. 

A  narrow  cave  ran  in  beneath  the 

cUff  : 
In  this  the  children  play'd  at  keeping 

house. 
£noch  was  host  one  day,  Philip  the 

next. 
While  Annie  still  was  mistress ;  but  at 

times 
Enoch  would  hold    possession  for  a 

week: 
•*  Xhis  ig  my  house  and  this  my  little 

wife." 


*«Mine  too"  said  PhiUp  "turn  and 

turn  about." 
When,  if  they  q  uarrell'd,  Enoch  strong* 

er-made 
Was  master  ;  then  would  Philip,  his 

blue  eyes 
All  flooded  with  the  helpless  wrath  of 

tears, 
Shriek  out  '*  I  hate  you,  Enoch,**  and 

at  this 
The  little  wife  would  weep  for  com- 
pany, 
And  pray  them  not  to  quarrel  for  her 

sake, 
And  say  she  would  be  little  wife  to 

both. 

But  when  tho  dawn  of  rosy  child- 
hood past, 

And  the  new  warmth  of  life*s  ascend- 
ing sun 

Was  felt  by  either,  either  fixt  his  heart 

On  that  one  girl ;  and  Enoch  spoke  his 
love. 

But  Philip  loved  in  silence ;  xind  the 
girl 

Seem'd  kinder  unto  Philip  than  to 
him ; 

But  she  loved  Enoch  ;  tho'  she  knew  it 
not, 

And  would  if  ask'd  deny  it.    Enoch  set 

A  purpose  evermore  before  his  eyes. 

To  hoard  all  savings  to  the  uttermost. 

To  purchase  his  own  boat,  and  make  a 
home 

For  Annie  :  and  so  prosper'd  that  at 
last 

A  luckier  or  a  bolder  fisherman, 

A  caref uUer  in  peril,  did  not  breathe 

For  leagues  along  tliat  breaker-beaten 
coast 

Than  Enoch.  Likewise  had  ho  served 
a  year 

Onboard  a  merchantman,  and  made 
himself 

Full  sailor ;  and  he  thrice  had  pluck'd  a 
life 

From  the  dread  sweep  of  the  down- 
streaming  seas  : 

And  all  men  look*d  upon  him  favorably: 

And  ere  lie  touch'd  his  one-aud-twen- 
tieth  Mav 

He  purchased  his  own  boat,  and  made 
a  home 

For  Annie,  neat  and  nestlike,  halfway 
up 

llie  narrow  street  that  clamber'd 
toward  the  mill. 

Then,  on  a  golden  autumn  eventiilc, 
Tlie  younger  people  making  holiday, 
With  bag  and  sack  and  basket,  great 

and  small, 
Went  nutting  to   the  hazels.    Philip 

stay'd 
(His  father  lying  sick  and  needing  him) 
An  hour  behind:  but  as  he  climb'd  ttm 

hill, 
Just  where  the  prone  edge  of  the  wood 

began 


V 


c  hoUovi  oC  [he 


Tbets,  whil  e  Uie  n«  were  land  in  mei- 
nod  bii  dsik  hooT  oiBeeD,  muJ  idh 
tag  ft  litBknig  hoiiser  lu  hli  heart. 


Wllh  diildic: 

With  Ui  nm 


tnriiic-up 


'f  bui  his  l>a>l  bee 

WTion  two  lenni  liter  came  n  boy  lo  be 

Tha  ron  Idol  of  IiereolitaJee, 

Wbllo  linoth  wu  abioad  uii  «TiLth[ul 

Or  otten  Journsjilng  landwortl ;  tor  In 

±-t    wUW    horeo,    mid  Enoch's 

!eaiwimell™g  .aler.  iiul  h1>  fnoe, 

l(iiugli.reil<]e  n'd  with  a  Ihcnuoaa  wiuuc 

only  lo  Ihe  maiket-crosi    were 

In  tlwleafTlnneiibelilnil'Jie  down 
.  .  ulUie  porUl-warillTiB  lioii-whclp, 
AnJ  jwaroclt-jewtroa  of   tlie   lonufy 


Hai; 


nil  vldngB 


Tiiirrhl^niitrniliailln.i  iiiMijiu 


Aud  nhite  be  pnT*!!,  Ibc  muter  st 

thaL*hip 
£Doch  Ii34  vened  id,  bearing  his  mls- 


anr  vwki  heftan  lb* 


^rr"" 


Chflllcdl 


ime  a  change, 

Ten  mliestoiiDTlliWiiril  i 

Open'd  a  larger  haven  : 

a  when  there,  and  chunlwriug 
r.  by  mlmiluuiiie  lia  slipt  and 

A  limb  was  broken  whan  the;  lilted 

Aiid  while  he  Iny  reanvbring  there,  kU 


Then  Enoch  lay  Ifiur^-ponderiug  en  hit 
To  nell  the  boaL--and  yet  ho  loved  lier 

Itow  maiiT  a  longh  aea  bad  he  weaLh- 

erMiiiherl 
He  knew  her,  as  a  honemaa  kiLen< 

Ilia  horse— 
And  jot  to  Bell  her— then  wltU  whK  ilii 

bmught 
Bay  goods  and  i 

Hollt 

lo  might  Bho  keep  the  houie  while  h« 

ShonldhenDttcadeMmaelfoutfanilar! 
go 
yage  more  than  once  ?  yea  twice 


And  psffi  Ma  days  tu  peaee  Mnont  bU 


ENOCH  ARDEN. 


181 


Tlmfl  Enoch  in  his  henrt  determined 

aU  : 
Then  moving  homeward  came  on  Annie 

pale, 
Nnrsins  the  sickly  babe,  her  latest- 

Dom. 
Forward  she  started  with  a  happy  cry, 
And  laid  the  feeble  infant  inhiit  arms ; 
Whom  Enoch  took,  and  handled  all  his 

limbs, 
Appraised    his   weight    and    fondled 

father^liko, 
But  had  no  lieart  to  break  bis  purposes 
To  Annie,  till  the  morrow,  when  he 

spoke. 

Then  first  since  Enoch's  golden  ring 

had  girt 
Her  finger.  Annie  fought  against  his 

will ; 
Yet  not  with  brawling  opposition  she, 
But  manifold  entreaties,  many  a  t«ar. 
Many  a  sad    kiss   by  day  by  night 

renew'd 
^ure  that  all  evil  would  come-out  of  it) 
Besought  him,  supplicating,  if  he  cared 
For  her  or  his  dear  children,  not  to  go. 
He  not  for  his  own  self  caring  but  her. 
Her  and  her  children,  let  her  plead  in 

vain ; 
So  grieving  held  his  will,  and  bore  it 

thro. 

For  Enoch  parted  with  his  old  sea- 
friend. 

Bought  Annie  goods  and  stores,  and  set 
his  hand 

To  fit  their  little  streetward  sitting- 
room 

With  shelf  and  comer  for  the  goods 
and  stores. 

So  all  day  long  till  Enoch's  last  at  home 

Shaking  their  pretty  cabin,  hammer 
and  axe. 

Auger  and  saw,  while  Annie  seem'd  to 
hear 

Her  own  death-scaffold  raising,  shrill' d 
and  rang, 

Till  this  was  ended,  and  his  careful 
hand, — 

The  space  was  narrow,— having  order'd 
all 

Almost  as  neat  and  close  as  Nature 
packs 

Her  blossom  or  her  seedling,  paused ; 
and  he, 

Who  needs  would  work  for  Annie  to 
the  last. 

Ascending  tired,  heavily  slept  till  morn 

And  Enoch  faced  this  morning  of 

Brightly  and  boldly.    All  his  Annie's 

fears. 
Save,  as  his  Annie's,  were  a  laughter  to 

him. 
Yet  Enoch  as  a  brave  God-fearing  man 
Bow'd   himself    down,    and  in    that 

mystery 
Where  God-in-man  is  one  with  man- 

iu-God, 


Pray*d  for  a  blessing  on  his  wife  and 

babes 
Whatever  came  to  him  :  and  then  he 

said 
**  Annie,  this  voyage  by  the  grace  of 

God 
Will  bring  fair  weather  yet  to  all  of  us. 
Keep  a  clean  hearth  and  a  clear  fire 

for  me, 
For  I'll  be  back,  my  girl,  before  you 

know  it." 
Then  lightly    rocking    baby's    cradle 

'*  and  he, 
Tills  pretty,  puny,  weakly  little  one, — 
Nay— for  1  love  him  all  the  better  for 

it^ 
God  blcBs  him,  he  shall  sit  upon  my 

knees 
And  I  will  tell  him  tales  of  foreign 

parts, 
And  make  liim  merry,  when  I  come 

home  again. 
Come  Annie,  come,  cheer  up  before  I 

go." 

Him  running  on  thus  hopefully  she 
heard 

And  almost  hoped  herself.;  but  when 
he  turn'd 

l%e  current  of  his  talk  to  graver  things 

In  sailor  fashion  roughly  seimonizing 

On  providence  and  trust  in  Heaven, 
she  heard. 

Heard  and  not  heard  him  :  as  the  vil^t 
lage  girl. 

Who  sets  her  pitcher  underneath  the 
spring. 

Musing  on  him  that  used  to  fill  it  for 
her. 

Hears  and  not  hears,  and  lets  it  over- 
flow. 

At  length  she  spoke  **  O  Enoch,  you 

are  wise  ; 
Andyet  for  all  your  widsom  well  know  I 
That  I  shall  look  upon  your  face  no 

more." 

"  Well  then  »'  said  Enoch,  "  I  shall 
look  on  yours. 
Annie,  the  ship  I  sail  in  passes  here 
(He  named  the  day)  ;  get  you  a  sei^ 

man's  glass, 
Spy  out  my  face,  and  laugh  at  all  your 
fears." 

But  when  the  last  of  those  last  mo- 
ments came, 

"Annie,  my  girl,  cheer  up,  be  com- 
forted, 

Ix>ok  to  the  babes;  and  till  I  come 
again. 

Keep  everything  shipshape,  for  I  must 

go- 
And  fear  no  more  for  me  ;  or  if  you  fear 

Cast  all  your  cares  on  God  ;  that  an- 
chor holds. 
Is  he  not  yonder  in  those  uttermost 
Parts  of  the  morning  ?  if  I  flee  to  these 
Can  I  go  from  him  ?  and  the  sea  is  His, 
The  sea  is  His  :  He  made  It." 


ESOCB  JtlDES. 


And  kl«M  'l>l*  woailnt-tlrielltn  Uisie 


Rcmaaibfir  llil*  V  "  uhI  klw'd  Um  In 

Uut  Auuio  trom  her  bnl^j"*  (utBlte»a 

A  iLnT  earl,  uil  nTe  It :  Uila  Iw  kept 
Tliro'»t1  111*  future  i  bat  iuk  iiatUlj 

UU  Inliiillc.  wtTcil  lill  luuul,  Uul  went 

Slwwlicnilie  di».  Uul  Eii^li  meii- 
norrowM  n  glUH.  but  all  lu  tbIu  ;  pcr- 
Slia  could  not  lix  Ilia  gluu  toBultlier 
Porliip.lirr  cyo  *a.  lUiii.liond  iremu- 


onUUU 
Aftcialin^ii 


'trt  ■  Itncerinc, — an  fl^*  mamwavCf— 
I     ii        I  ilTiiliii  ■[Htmliliiij. 


Kv'n  lo  IhB  luldl])  of  the  TUiL'hiiig 
(tlid  ilfipBrtiid  weeping 


phlUp'a 

(Sinn  ^ti£^^  k«  had  witlH^J 

Bponberl. 
Smote  kiin,  u  haTias  kept  ■lodl  M 

"  Saitlj  "  uid  Philip  "  I  ami  •»  ha 
Ma;  lie  wine  little  coiiifiirt"  then- 
Part  thro'  the  lolituj  Toom  la  trpat. 
Then  utruck  It  thriee,  baU*    ih>  ou» 

Eoterd  :  but  Xunle,  aeUsd  vllb  bM 

grief, 
Fre>h  from  IbB  burial  of  hm  Uttloiaw 
CateduoLio  look  oii  tuy  huniaufan 
But  tuni'dhei  uwu  lenaia  the  uiU 

Then  Philip  alainllng  up  aald  lalier. 

"  Annie.  icamatoaskBlaTOTotyan.'' 

lie  (poke;  IheiMiHlou  inbernnian^ 


.'  alie ' 


She  I 

Diet 

SotliorB^wlirioleiito  «li 
hli, 
throve  notln  bcr  tnide, 

iBcter.  nor  compenakUni; 
ibrewdiieH,  pclttier  capat 

I    itlir  forehcdiiig   -whi 


Enorh.yourliUBhiuid; 
Yon  cliuae  the  beat  ami 


Fori 


Eiinc 


"1''L  . 


r  dim- 


And  pwMuro,  hod  thu  (old  h«r  wivrea 

Tlian  vrhatsliE  bbtc  In  linyluB  wliat  ulio 

Ihefnll'd  mid  iBddrn'd  kiioxiDC  It; 

ana  tliua, 
JxpMtftiit  o[  that  newB  -which  never 

(laln'd  forlwrownasrantysQ 


'or  where  ha  fixtidd  heart  ho  » 

luind 
ru  do  the  thing  lie  will'd,  nml  bun  » 

t.nd  wlierofore  did  he  bo  thiawearr 

?ot  ploaaure  ?— nay,  hut  lor  Uia  w 
To  give  hie  babea  a  better  hrinfrln^p 


■d  lived 


,  life  of  elleu 
Udrdcldldwna  nlukly-bom 


i>oh<.ly. 


Thou  hia  had  been 
■  •       iBh. 

0  find  Ihe  jireinouB 


tTIUi  allamother*! 
WlMttaerhBt  huali 


ENOCH  ARDEN. 


183 


Have  we  not  known  each  other  all  our 

lives  ? 
I  do  bcseoch  you  hy  the  love  you  bear 
Uim  and  bis  children  not  to  aay  me 

nay— 
For,  if  you  will,  when  Enoch  comes 

again 
Why  then  he  shall  repay  me— if  yon 

will, 
Annie— for  X  am  rich  and  well-to-do, 
Now  let  me  put  the  boy  and  girl  to 

school  : 
This  is  the  favor  that  I  came  to  ask." 

Then  Annie  with  her  brows  against 

the  wall 
Answer'd "  I  cannot  look  you  in  the 

face  ; 
I  seem  so  foolish  and  so  broken  down. 
When  you  came  in  my  sorrow  broke 

me  down  ; 
And  now  I  think  your  kindness  breaks 

me  down  ; 
But  Enoch  lives  ;  that  is  borne  in  on 

me  : 
He  will  repay  you  :  money    can    be 

repaid; 
Kot  kindness  such  as  yours.*' 

And  PhiUp  ask'd 
•*  Then  you  will  let  me,  Annie  ?  " 

There  she  tum'd. 
She  rose,  and  flxt  her  swimming  eyes 

upon  him, 
And  dwelt  a  moment  on  his  kindly 

face. 
Then  callins  down  a  blessing  on  his 

head 
Caught  at  his  hand,  and  wrung  it  pas- 
sionately, 
And  past  into  the  little  garth  beyond. 
So  lifted  up  in  spirit  he  moved  away. 
Then  Philip  put  the  boy  and  girl  to 

school. 
And  bought  Uiera  needful  books,  and 

everyway,     . 
Like  one  wno  does  his  duty  by  his 

own, 
Made  himself    theirs ;    and  tho*   for 

Annie's  sake, 
Fearing  the  lazy  ffossip  of  the  port, 
He  oft  denied  his  neart  his  dearest  wish 
And  seldom  crost  her  threshold,  yet 

he  tent 
Gifts  by  the  children,    gnrden-herbs 

and  fruit. 
The  late  and  early  roses  from  his  wall. 
Or  conies  from  the  down,  and  now  and 

then. 
With  some  pretext  of  fineness  in  the 

meal 
To  save  the  offence  of  charitable,  flour 
From  his  tall  mill  that  whistled  on  the 

waste. 

But  Philip  did  not  fathom  Annie's 
mind  : 
Scarce  could  the  woman  when  he  came 
upon  her, 


Out  of  full  heart  and  boundless  grati« 

tude 
Light  on  a  broken  word  to  thank  him 

with. 
But  Philip  was  her  children's  all-in- 
all ; 
From  distant  comers  of  the  street  they 

ran 
To  greet  his  hearty  welcome  heartily  ; 
Lords  of  bis  house  and  of  his  mill  were 

they  ; 
Worried    his    passive  ear  with  petty 

wrongs 
Or  pleasures,  hung  upon  him,  play'd 

with  him 
And  call'd  him  Father  Philip.    Philip 

gain'd 
As  Enoch  lost ;  for  Enoch  seem'd  to 

them 
Uncertain  as  a  vision  or  a  dream. 
Faint  as  a  tigure  seen  in  early  dawn 
Down  at  the  far  end  of  an  avenue. 
Going  we  know  not  where  :  and  so  ten 

years. 
Since  Enoch  left  his  hearth  and  native 

land. 
Fled  forward,  and  no  news  of  Enoch 

came. 

It  chanced  one  evening  Annie's  chil- 
dren long'd 

To  go  with  otliei'K.  nutting  to  the  wood. 

And  Annie  would  go  with  them  ;  then 
they  bege'd 

For  Father  Philfp  (as  they  call'd  him) 
too  : 

Him,  like  the  working  bee  in  blossom- 
dust, 

Blanch'd  with  his  mill,  they  found  ; 
and  saying  to  him 

"Come  with  us  Father  Philip"  he 
denied  ; 

But  when  the  children  pluck'd  at  him 
to  go, 

He  laugh'd,  and  yielded  readily  to 
their  wish. 

For  was  not  Annie  with  them?  and 
they  went. 

But  after  scaling  half  the   weary 

down. 
Just  where  the  prone  edge  of  the  wood 

began 
To  featlier  toward  the  hollow,  all  her 

force 
Fail'd  her ;  and  sighing  "  let  me  rest " 

she  said : 
So  Philip  rested  with  her  well-content; 
While  all  the  vounger  ones  with  jubi- 
lant cries 
Broke  from  their  elders,  and  tumul- 

tuouply 
Down  thro'  the  whitening  hazels  made 

a  plunge 
To  the  bottom,  and  dispersed,  and  bent 

or  broke 
The  lithe  reluctant  boughs  to  tear 

away 
Their  tawny  clusters,  crying  to  earli 

other 


ENOCH  ARDEN. 


185 


And  there  ho  Btood  once  more  before  i 

her  face, 
ClaUning  her  promise.  *^  Is  it  a  year  ?  " 

uie  ask'd. 
•«  Tes,  if  the  nuts"  he  said  «  be  ripe 

again : 
Ck>me  out  and  see.*'    But  she  —  she 

put  him  off  — 
So  much  to  look  to — such  a  change  — 

a  month  — 
Give  her  a  montli — she  knew  that  she 

was  bound — 
A  month — no  more.  Then  Philip  with 

his  eyes 
Pull  of  that  life^Iong  hunger,  and  his 

voice 
Shaking  a  little  like  a  drunkard*s  hand, 
*'  Take  your  own  time,  Annie,  take 

your  own  time." 
And  Annie  could  have  wept  for  pity  of 

him; 
And  yet  she  held  him  on  delayingly 
"With  many  a  scarce-believable  excuse. 
Trying  his  truth  and  his  long-suffer- 
ance. 
Till  half-another  year  had  slipt  away. 

By  this  the  lazy  gossips  of  the  port, 

Abhorrent  of  a  calculation  croet, 

Segan  to  chafe  as  at  a  personal  wrong. 

Some  thouffht  that  Philip  did  but  trille 
wim  her ; 

Some  that  she  but  held  oH  to  draw 
him  on ; 

And  others  laugh*d  at  her  and  Philip 
too, 

As  simple  folk  that  knew  not  their 
own  minds ; 

And  one,  in  whom  all  evil  fancies 
clung 

Idke  serpent  eggs  together,  laughing- 
ly 

"Would  hint  at  worse  in  either.  Her 
own  son 

"Was  silent,  tho*  he  often  look'd  his 
wish  ; 

But  evermore  tlie  daughter  prest  upon 
her 

To  wed  the  man  so  dear  to  all  of  them 

And  lift  the  household  out  of  pover- 
ty ; 

And  Philip's  rosy  face  contracting 
grew 

Careworn  and  wan ;  and  all  these 
things  fell  ou  her 

Sharp  as  reproach. 

At  last  one  night  it  chanced 
That  Annie  could  not  sleep,  but  eari  * 

estly 
Pray*d  for  a  sign  "my  Enoch  is  ho 

gone  ?" 
Then  coropassM  round  by  the  blind 

wall  of  night 
Brook'dnot  the  expectant  terror  of 

her  heart, 
Started  from  bed,  and  struck  herself  a 

light, 
Tben  desperately  seized  the  holy  Book, 
Snddeuly  set  it  wide  to  find  a  9,\g»j 


Suddenly  put  her  finger  on  the  text, 
**  Under    the   paltn-tiee."    That   was 

nothing  to  her ; 
Xo   meaning   there :   she   closed   llio 

Book  and  slept : 
When   lo !   her  Enoch  sitting  on   a 

height, 
Under  a  palm-tree,  over  him  the  Sun  : 
*•  Ho  is  gone"    she  thought   "he  is 

happy,  he  is  singing 
Kosanna  in  the  highest:  yonder  shines 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  and  these 

be  palms 
Whereof  the  happy  people  strewing 

cried 
*  Ilosanna  in  the  highest !  * "  Here  she 

woke, 
Resolved,  sent  for  him  and  said  wildly 

to  him 
"  Thero  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not 

wed." 
"  Then  for  God's  ScVKje,"  he  answerM, 

**  both  our  hakes, 
So  you  will  wed  me,  let  it  be  at  once." 

So  these  were  wed  and  merrily  /ang 

the  bells, 
Merrily  rang  the  bells  and  they  were 

wed. 
But  never  merrily  beat  Annie's  heart. 
A  footstep  seemed  to  fall  beside  her 

path, 
She  knew  not  whence ;  a  whisper  on 

her  ear, 
Gho  knew  not  what ;  nor  loved  she  to 

be  left 
Alone  at  home,  nor  ventured  oat  alone. 
What  ail'd   her   then,    that   ere   she 

enter'd,  often 
Her  hand  dwelt   lingeringly  ou   the 

latch, 
Fearing  to  enter :   Philip  thought  he 

knew  : 
Such  doubts  and  fears  were  common  to 

her  state. 
Being  with  child  :  but  when  her  child 

was  born. 
Then  her  new  child  was   as  herself 

renew'd, 
Then  the  new  mother  came  about  her 

heart. 
Then  her  good  Philip  was  her  all-in- 
all, 
And  that  mysterious  instinct  wholly 

died. 

And   where   was   Enoch  ?   prosper- 
ously sail'd 
The  ship  «'  Good  Fortune,"  tho'  at  set 

ting  forth 
The  Biscay,  )oughly  ridging  eastward, 

shook 
And    almost     overwhelm'd    her,   yet 

unvext 
She  slipt  across  the  summer  of  the 

world, 
Then  after   a  long  tumble  about  the 

Cape 
And  frequent  intcicha.ti%"&  q^  l»\iN.  ^Xki^ 

fair 


! 


i 


ENOCH  ARDEN. 


I  Till alleiiciu hec orlanUI liaren. 
TlorB  EnofJi  traded  for  liiniBolf,  nnd 
bouffhc 
Quaint  monsteni  lor  tlia   msrliat  of 

A  clIilBd  draguu,  aim,  Eur  tlio  babcB. 

Ijibii  lucky  her  honny-Tojago :  atflrBt 
Thro'  nuiny  »  fslr  Bca^ircle,  day  by 
Scarce-roi-klue,  hat  full-lmaUd  llguro- 
tbe  rlpplo  IcDUioring  froDi 


TbsD  lollaw-d'ca'luu,  atid  then  wit 
vartitble, 

Slotm,  mcli  ta  dravo  lirr  under  moe 

Till  liard  upou  lb«  cry  o£  '•  breoken 

TliQ  <?ruh  of  niiu,  nnil  tho  loH  pf  al 
But  IfAiocli  BUd  two  otlien.    lliOf  I 

Iilglit, 
Baoy'd  uponfloBtln"  taclilo  ami  liroV 

Tbeie  drifted,  strnnding  on  tax  Isle 


Boftfrultage,  mighty  una,  and V 

Knr  aula  for  iiUv  wna  It  hard  It 
The  liolplesit  lUu  bu  wild  iJial 


a«If  lint,  ha5f  uallVa  caveni. 


e,  Iha  yonneeat,  hardly  mors 
Huit  In  tbat  night  of  sudden  ruin  and 
Lay  Ilnaaring  out  ■  Drp-yeara"  death- 


They  could 


lesve  lilt 
iiliiii'gfoundafiilh 


Aflcr  he 


Plre-holloBdng  tl 


Tho  nuiuntaln  wooded  to  Ihi 

And  "^"^«8  Bl^™  high  np  llKa  wj. 

Tho  alendcr  roeo's  drooping  ctowi    ' 

The  llgiTciilng 'floah  o(  insect  an. 

The  luslro  of  the  long  ronrnlTulus 
That  cotl'd  around  tlia  sIMcly  au 

ET'n  lo  the   limit   of    tlie   land, 

And  gloiiea  of  the  broad  Mt  at 

Aimie«ehoii«w;but  whathe&lnijiij 

Ha  could  not  see,  the  kindly  iamOt 

Sor  aver  hcarn  kindly  Tolee,  hut  hfud 
'llie  myriad  elimik  of  wheeling  oeam- 

The  le^fi-iojip!  roller  tbuudaring 

The  moving  whisper  of  Jiuge  Irees  OM 

Aiid  blnsBoni-d  in  tlio  aenlUi,  or 


Of  Bome   pradpit 

OUB    rivillrt  W  IM 

Aa  down  tho  aha 

e  ha  ruiged,  or  ^ 

ZTJSiT. 

Ko  Htjl  from  dft;  to  day,  but  stity 


Iho  blaze  upon  llie  watf  ni  to  tlie  wm 
Then  the  Kieat  siara  tliai  ghibwl  tb» 

rha  botlower-beliowlug  ocean,  u 
rho  Bcartet  shafts  of  stinrlie— but' 
Tliaro  often  as  he  wnlclt'd  or  coin 
en  Ihuuxl  on  liln 
of  many  phantaim 
Before  him  baundng  bfm,orbelilD- 


TbedlinblnKSIJeet.lhe  mill,  the 
The  pearork-yewtiee  and  the  kmsjj 


2N0Cn  AUDEX. 


187 


rse  ho  drove,  the  boat  he  sold, 

the  chill 

ber  dawns  and  dewy-glooming 

downs, 

ntle  shower,  the  smell  of  dying 

leaves, 

le  low  moan  of  leaden-color*d 

seas. 

likewise,  in  the  ringing  of  his 
ears, 

aintly,   merrily  —  far  and  far 
away  — 

ird  the  pealing  of  his  i>arish 
bells  ; 

Iho'  he  knew  not  wherefore, 
started  up 

ring,  and  when  the  beauteous 
hateful  isle 

'd  upon  him,  had  not  his  poor 
heart 

with  That,  which  being  every- 
where 

•ne,  who  speaks  with  Him,  seem 
all  alone, 
the  man  had  died  of  solitude. 

over  Enoch's    early-silvering 
head 

my  and  rainy  seasons  came  and 
went 

rter  year.    His  hopes  to  see  his 
own, 

ce  the  sacred  old  familiar  fields, 
t  had  perish'd,  when  his  lonely 

doom 

suddenly  to  an  end.    Another 

ship 

in  ted  water)  blown  by  baflUng 

winds. 

le  Good  Fortune,  from  her  des- 
tined course, 
by  this  isle,  iiot  knowing  where 

she  lay  : 
Lce  the  mate  had  seen  at  early 

dawn 

a  break  on  the  mist-wreathen 

isle 
lent  water  slipping  from  the 

hills, 
tent  a  crew  that  landing  burst 

away 
ch  of  stream  or  fount,  and  fill'd 

the  shores 
clamor.    Downward    from   his 

mountain  gorse 

lie  long-hair'd  long-bearded  soli- 
tary, 

,  looking  hardly  human,  strange- 
ly clad, 
ing  and  mumbling,  idiot  like  it 

seem'd, 
inarticulate  rage,  and  making 

signs 
cnew  not  what :  and  yet  he  led 

the  way 
ere  the  rivulets  of  sweet  water 

ran; 

rer  as  he  minsled  with  the  crew, 
i«»aTd  them   talking,   his  long- 

bounden  tonioie. 


Was  loosen'd,  till  he  made  them  un- 
derstand ; 

Whom,  when  their  casks  were  fillM 
they  took  aboard : 

And  there  the  tale  he  utter'd  broken* 

ly. 

Scarce-credited  at  first  but  more  and 

more, 
Amazed  and  melted  all  who  listen'd 

to  it: 
And  clothes  they  gave  him  and  free 


passage  home ; 
;hc 


But  oft  he  work'd  among  the  rest  and 

shook 
His  isolation  from  him.   None  of  these 
Came  from  his  county,  or  could  answer 

him. 
If  question^,  aught  of  what  he  cared 

to  know. 
And  dull  the  voyage  was  with  long 

delays, 
The   vessel    scarce    sea-worthy ;   but 

evermore 
His  fancy  fle<l  before  the  lazy  wind 
lieturnbig,    till    beneath    a    clouded 

moon 
He  like  u  lover  down  thro*  all  his  blood 
Drew  in  the  dewy  meadowy  morning 

breath 
Of  England,  blown  across  her  ghostly 

wall: 
And  that  same  morning  officers  and 

men 
Levied  a  kindly  tax  upon  themselves. 
Pitying  the  lonely  man,  and  gave  him 

it: 
Then  moving  up  the  coast  they  landed 

him, 
Ev'n  in  that  harbor  whence  he  sail'd 

before. 

There  Enoch  spoke  no  word  to  any 

one, 
But  homeward  —  home — what  homA? 

had  he  a  home  ? 
His  home,  he  walk'd.   Bright  was  that 

afternoon, 
Sunny  but  chill ;  till  drawn  thro*  either 

chasm. 
Where   either  havens  open*d  on  the 

deeps, 
Boird  a  sesrhaze   and  whelm*d  the 

world  in  gray : 
Cut  off  the  len^h  of  highway  on  be- 
fore, 
And  left  but  narrow  breadth  to  left  and 

light 
Of  wither^l  holt  or  tilth  or  pasturage. 
On   ihe   nigh-naked   tree   the   Robin 

piped 
Disconsolate,  and  thro*  the  dripping 

haze 
The  dead  weight  of  the  dead  leaf  bore 

it  down : 
Thicker  the  drizzle  grew,  deeper  the 

gloom; 
Last,  as  It  seem*d,  a  great  mist-blotted 

light 
Flared  on  him,  sad  he  came  upon  the 

place. 


ENocn 

iBn  ilonri  Iha  long  itieot  Imviag 
»lowly  ■tolon, 
Hja  heart  lareshadowing  mil  calamltr. 


In   t 


1   Iir- 


o'etlilict 


No  BhBdow  past,  nor  motion  :  aiiyoBO, 
Kegarding,  well  Lut  duem'd  ho  Ci^lt  tlio 

Loi  Oaai  the  tellac  :  oiilj-  when  eha 


Aealn    In    deape 


"U  ImWi'ioo^  oi 


Haunted  and  harasa'd  h 


At  creiilng  when.  Ihs  daU  ^ort 
Was  grOBlns  dnllar  twillslil,  t 


id  Iffved  Mm  I  and 


Due  finding  neither  light  lie 

there 
(A  Wll  o(  ule  aleam'd  Uuo"  the  drin- 

CtlU  downward  thlnlcliig  ■'  dsad  or  da 

I>oim  to  the  pool  and  nurtow  M'bE 
be  Wfliit. 
Eeeltinna  taTSm  wUaU   of  old   . 

A  front  of  Uniber-rrOBt  antiquity. 

He  thought  it  must  have  gone)  uut. 

'Who kept  it;  and  hb  widow,  Mldt 

ynth  daily-dwIndUn;  profits  held  t 

A  haant  of  brawlinj  Boomon  mice,  bnt 

Stiller,  with  jet  a  bod  for 


Xot  knowing— Enoch  was  bo  brow 

So  broken  —  all  the  atorj-  of  his  honi 
His  baby'B  death,  her  growing  jioveny, 
How  Philip   put  her  liiUe   one*   to 

And  kept  them  In  it,  bis  long  wooing 

Hei  slow  content,  and  marriage, 

the  l)lrth 
Of  Philip's  child  : 


The  i-uddy  Bguare  oC  con 

Allared  liin 
The   bird  o 

For  PI""" 
TTllh  one  t 


» 


And  o'er  her  second  faiher  itoop" 

A  later  but  a  loftier  Annie  Lee, 
Falr-haii'd  ajid  tall,  aud  tiom  bn  If 

edhand 
Dangled  a  length  of  ribbon  and  lini 
To   tempt    the  tnbe,  who  nor'ii* 

Cnughtat  and  over  tniss'dit,  sal t^ 

And  on  the  left  hand  of  Ibehesr**' 

The  mother  glancing  often  lOfsnl  ** 

But  taming'  now  and  then  to  ip^ 

withhhn,  .     . 

Her  son,  who  stood  beside  b«r  tall  •" 

And  sa^ng  ibat  which  pleased  Ui*' 

Now  when  the  dead  man  seat  W ' 
beheld 
His  u-ife  his  wife  do  luore.aadia' 


ENOCH  ARDEN. 


189 


Hen,  yet  not  his,  upon  the  father's 

And  an  the  wannth,  the  peace,  the 

happinesR. 
And  his  own  children  tall  and  beauti- 
ful, 
And  him.  that  other,  reigning  in  his 

place,  • 

Lord  of  his  rights  and  of  his  children's 

love,— 
Then  he,  tho*  Miriam  Lane  had  told 

him  all. 
Because  things  seen  are  mightier  than 

things  heard, 
8tagger*d    and    shook,    holding    the 

branch,  and  fear*d 
To  send  abroad  a  shrill  and  terrible 

cry» 
Which  in  one  moment,  like  the  blast 

of  doom, 
Would  shatter  all  the  happiness  of  the 

hearth. 

He  therefore  turning  softly  like  a 
thief, 

X«est  the  harsh  shingle  should  grate 
underfoot, 

And  feeling  all  along  the  garden-wall, 

liest  he  should  swoon  and  tiunble  and 
be  found. 

Crept  to  the  gate,  and  open'd  it,  and 
closed, 

As  lightly  as  a  sick  man's  chamber- 
door, 

Behind  him,  and  came  out  upon  the 
waste. 

And  there  he  would  have  knelt,  but 

that  his  knees 
Were  feeble,  so  that  falling  prone  he 

dug 
His  fingers  int6  the  wet  earth,  and 

pray'd. 

"Too  hard  to  bear!  why  did  they 

take  me  thence  ? 
O    God  Almighty,   blessed    Saviour, 

Thou 
That  didst  uphold  me  on  my  lonely 

isle, 
Uphold  me,  Father,  in  my  loneliness 
A  little  longer  1    aid  me,  give    me 

strength 
Not  to  tell  her,  never  to  let  her  know. 
Help  me  not  to  break  in  upon  her 


peace. 
Idrento 


My  children  too  I  must  I  not  speak  to 

these? 
They  know  me  not.    I  should  betray 

myself. 
Kever:  no  father's  kiss  for  me — the 


girl 
nei 


80  like  ner  mother,  and  the  boy,  my 


■on. 


»» 


There  speech  and  thought  and  na- 
ture fail'd  a  little. 
And  he  lay  tranced ;  but  when  he  rose 
and  paced 
towani  his  solitary  home  aeain. 


All  down  the  long  and  narrow  street  ho 

went 
Beating  it  in  upon  his  weary  brain, 
As  tho^it  were  the  burden  of  a  song, 
"Not  to   tell  her,  never  to  let  ner 

know." 

He  was  not  all  unhappy.  His  resolro 
Upbore  him,  and  firm  faith,  and  ever- 
more 
Prayer  from  a  living  source  within  the 

will, 
And  beating  up  thro'  all  the  bitter 

world, 
Like  fountains  of  sweet  water  in  the 

sea, 
Kept  him  a  living  soul.  "  This  miller's 

wife  " 
He  said  to  Miriam  **  that  you  told  mo 

of, 
Has  she  no  fear  that  her  first  husband 

lives?" 
**Ay,  ay,   poor   soul"    said   Miriam, 

**  fear  enow  I 
If  you  could  tell  her  you  had  seen  him 

dead, 
Why,  that  would  be  her  comfort;" 

and  he  thought 
"After  the  Lord  has  call'd  me  she 

shall  know, 
I  wait  His  time  "  and  Enooh  set  himself 
Scorning  an  alms,  to  work  whereby  to 

live. 
Almost  to  all  things  could  he  turn  his 

hand. 
Coox>er  he    was  and  carpenter,  and 

wrought 
To  make  the  boatmen  fishing-nets,  or 

help'd 
At  lading  and  unlading  the  tall  barks. 
That  brought  the  etiuted  commerce  of 

those  days ; 
Thus  cam'd  a  scanty  living  for  him- 
self: 
Yet  since  he  did  but  labor  for  himself, 
Work  without  hope,  there  was  not  life 

in  it 
Whereby  the  man  could  live  ;  and  as 

the  year 
Roll'd  itself  round  again  to  meet  the 

day 
When  Enoch  had  retum'd,  a  languor 

came 
Upon  him,  gentle  sickness,  gradually 
Weakening  the  man,  till  he  could  do 

no  more. 
But  kept  the  house,  his  chair,  and  last 

his  bed. 
And  Enoch  bore  his  weakness  cheer- 
fully. 
For  sure  no  gladlier  does  the  stranded 

wreck 
See  -.^hro'  the  gray  skirts  of  a  lifting 

squall 
The  boat  that  bears  the  hope  of  life 

approach 
To  save  the  life  despair'd  of,  than  he 

saw 
Death  dawning  on  him,  and  the  close 

of  all. 


-V 


190  ENOCn 

For  tluo'   Uuit  dnwnlng  gleun 


Ha  call'd  nloud  for  Sllrlam  Lane  and 
uld 

Bcrore  ItBllTon— swaarupdii  lie  book 
Not  tu  rBTeafit,  till  you  Ke  mo  dead." 
"Dasd"  elftmor'd   the  good   -woniMi 
-lieBTlilniUlk  t 

"Sttbbt"  added   Enoch  Btenily  "on 

And  on  the  book,  hKU-trlghCed,  Mlrlsiin 

Then  EiHwh  tolling  hla  gray  eyes  upon 

Jmr, 
"Did  you  know  Enoch  Anlen  of  tblB 

"Know  him?"  she  iald"  I  knewhlm 

-^Ti  "yi  1  mind  Mm  coming  down  the 

Held  hlB  head  high,  and  <:arcd  for  no 

Siowiy  and  Midly  Enoch  aiiawer'd  her; 

foe  him.     ' 
I  IJilnk  I  hBTD  not  three  days  more  to 

Ilvej 
I  omtbenian."    At'irlilch  the  noman 

AhnK-incrodnlouB.half-hyBtericBlcry. 


"YouArden.youiuay,- 


My  grief  and   lolltude  have    broken 

NoTerthuleis.  know  J-ou  that  I  lua  he 
WLo   married -but  that  name    ha" 

I  married  her  who  marrR-d  Philip  Ray. 


HlB  wreck.  iTiB  lonely  life,  biB  coming 

HlB  gazing  In  on  Annie,  Mb  resolve. 
And  liDWlie  kept  it.    As  the  woman 


To  ruBh  abroad  all  ronnd  the  little 
Proclaiming  knoeh  Arden  and  his 
But  awed  aiid  piomlBo-bounden  abe 
Baying  onlj-"8ea  your  baltnB  before 
Th,  let  mo  [etch  'em,  Arden,"  and 
Eager  to  bring  them  down,  for  Enoch 


ARDEN. 

A  moment  on  her  won 
■'  Woman,  dlstorb  mi 


While  I  hiTB  power  to  apeak.  I  q 

When  you  alioll  Bee  her,  tell  her  UiK  I 

died 
Blessing  her,  praying  (or  het,  l< 


""C?^ 


tor  har. 


tien  the  laid  her  head  bciidt  nj 
lell  my  danghler  Ann 

<lng  her  and  pnyhil, 
that  I  died  bloEl 
Ind  say  to  Philip  that  I  blcBt  1 


For  my  dead  fai 

life. 
And  noBt  there 

blood 


Tliiohalrishlg:  she  cut  it  otf  and i 

And  I  hnve  borne  it  with  me  all  Hat 

And  tbought'to  bear  It  with 

But  now  my  mind  1*  changed,  Kl  I 

shall  Bee  him. 
My  babe  in  bllaa  :  whorefors  wkial 

Take,  gl  re  her  this,  for  It  may  cnaiM 

It  will  moreover  be  a  token  to hn, 

That  I  am  he." 

Hece 


:o  again  ho  roll'd  hlieyes  np* 


And  Miriam  watch'd  and  doxed  at  U 
There  eame  bo  loud  a  calliLig  ot  II 
That  all  the  houei  In  tbe  bavaa  IM| 


AYLMEWa  FIELD. 


101 


ITe  woke,  he  rose,  he  spread  his  arms 

abroad 
Crying  with  a  loud  voice  "  a  sail !  a 

sail  I 
I  am  saved  ; "   and  so  fell  back  and 

spoke  no  more. 

So  past  the  strong  heroic  soul  away. 
And  when  they  buried  him  the  Utile 

port 
Had  seldom  seen  a  costlier  funeral* 


AYLMER'S  FIELD. 
1793. 

Dust  are  our  fmmes;  and,  gilded 

dust,  our  pride 
Looks  only  for  a  moment  whole  and 

sound ; 
Like   that  long-buried  body  of    the 

king, 
^ound  Ijringwith  his  urns  and  oma^ 

ments, 
"Wliich  at  a  touch  of  light,  an  air  of 

heaven, 
Sllpt  into  ashes    and  was  found  no 

more. 

Here  is  a  story  which  in  rougher 

shape 
Oame  from  a  grizzled  cripple,  whom  I 

saw 
finnning    himself    in    a  waste   field 

alone  — 
Oldy  and  a  mine  of  memories— who  had 

served, 
X^ng  since,  a  bygone  Rector  of  the 

place, 
.Ajid  been  himself  a  part  of  what  he 

told. 

Sib  Atlmeb  Atlher  that  almighty 
man, 

The  countvGod— in  whose  capacious 

hall, 
Hung  with  a  hundred  shields,  the 

family  tree 
Sprang  from  the  midriff  of  a  prostrate 

king  — 
"Whose  blazing  wyvem  weathercock'd 

the  spire, 
Stood  from  his  walls  and  wing'd  his 

entry-gates 
And  swang  besides  on  many  a  windy 

sign  — 
Whose  eyes  from  under  a  pyramidal 

head 
Saw  from  his  windows  nothing  save 

his  own — 
What  lovelier  of  his  own  had  he  than 

her. 
His  only  child,  his  Edith,  whom  he 

loved 
As  heiress  and  not  heir  regretfully  ? 
But  *'  he  that  marries  her  marries  her 


name 


»» 


This  flat  somewhat   soothed  himself 

and  wife. 
His  wife  a  faded  beauty  of  the  Baths, 
Insipid  as  the  Queen  upon  a  card ; 
Her  all  of  thought  and  bearing  hardly 

more 
Than  his  own  shadow  in  a  sickly  sun. 

A  land  of  hops  and  poppy-mingled 

com, 
Little  about  it  stirring  save  a  brook  ! 
A  sleepy  land  where  under  the  samo 

wheel 
The  same  old  rut  would  deepen  year 

by  year ; 
Where  almost  all  the  village  had  one 

name ; 
"Where  Aylmer  follow'd  Aylmer  at  tlie 

Hall 
And  Averill  Averill-at  the  Rectory 
Thrice  over  ;  so  that  Rectory  and  Hall, 
Bound  in  an  immemorial  intimacy. 
Were  open    to  each  other;   tho*  to 

dream 
That  Love  could  bind  them  closer  well 

had  made 
The  hoar  hair  ofthe  Baronet  bristle  up 
With  horror,  worse  than  had  he  heard 

his  priest 
Preach  an  inverted  scripture,  sons  of 

men 
Daughters  of  God ;  so  sleepy  was  the 

land. 

And  might  not  Averill,  had  he  wiird 

it  80, 

Somewhere  beneath  his  own  low  range 
of  roofs, 

Have  also  set  his  many-shielded  tree  ? 

There  was  an  Aylmer-AveriU  marriage 
once, 

When  tho  red  rose  was  redder  than  it- 
self. 

And  York's  white  rose  as  red  as  Lan- 
caster's, 

With  wounded  peace  which  each  had 
prick'd  to  death. 

**  Not  proven  "  Averill  said,  or  laugh- 
ingly 

**Some  other  race  of  Averills'*  — 
prov'n  or  no, 

What  cared  he  ?  what,  if  other  or  the 
same? 

He  lean'd  not  on  his  fathers  but  him- 
self. 

But  Leolin.  his  brother,  living  oft 

With  Averill,  and  a  year  or  two  before 

Caird  to  the  bar,  but  ever  call'd  away 

By  one  low  voice  to  one  dear  neighbor- 
hood. 

Would  often,  in  his  walks  with  Edith, 
claim 

A  distant  kinship  to  the  gracious 
blood 

That  shook  tho  heart  of  Edith  hearing 
him. 

Sanguine  he  was  *.  a  A^mX  \^v!i  N\N\i^ 
hue 


AYUfEICS  FIELD. 


Joyful, 
rolling 


Tliui  af  tbBt  iBlet  In 

ed  tn  hi!  rhesli ;  a 
UiMailll 
Took  Joytul  note  of  all 

BeneMli  b  manelllia  n 

gold, 
Their  lieil;  uid  brif[bteBt,  vbea  Cbey 

I,  wtiina  jwDBlve  beiQly,  perfect 
.ubUcl'lo  the  Bei 
B  Ifke  a  myitii: 

And  gntlBT  glory  Taryln 
We  kiioiv  HOC  wbelefoie  -, 

mule, 
And  yet  eu  finely,  thnt 

Tbinn'd,  or  would  uem  lo  IMu  her  iu 

•iia   to    dilate,  ns   towurd   tbe 
light. 
And  these  bad  been  togather  from  Iba 

I«olln'»  ttrei  nurBB  wM,  flva  yeara  n(- 

sh  the  boy  foreran ;  but  whan 
bin  (late 
Douliled  bor  ovm,  toe  want  of  play- 

Hla  elilt 


oublou 


:e  muted  bonra  vj 


siiledwjnter-aeldi 
that   phalanx   vf 


IBlintWl,  pn«MUl. 

.viab  bQouty  moiiIM, 
.  DKm,  the  Diftlden 
'ecill;  Hun, 
u  broken  (p 


jMtly  Ihefe 


woar  the  garlaiKl; 

At  ChrietmV  ""^^ 

On  whose  dn'u  Eamenesi  bia  fall  llOi!  af 

Broke  wlib  a  phoEphoreBceuce  ebHT' 

Mr  lady  ;  and  the  Baronet  ret  had  )>I<1 
So  bar  between  Uiem  ;  diill  and  mU- 

involved. 
Tall  and  ereet,  but  bendiuc  from  bll 

height 
VTlth  bair-ailowlng  smUes  tor  til  Uw 

world. 


bis  prido 
lay  deepiic    that 


With  wing*  of  brooding  ihaltBT  o'rt 
Might  hare  been' other,  Bav*  (or  L* 
Who  knows?  but  to  they  wandw'd. 
that  rebloOTi'4 ; 


d  drank 


Tlia  mai^  cnp  lb 


AYLMERS  FIELD. 


193 


A  whisper  half  reyeal'd  her  to  her- 
self. 
For  out  beyond  her  lodges,  where  the 

brook 
Vocal,  with  here  and  there  a  silence, 

ran 
By  sallowy  rims,  arose  the  laborers' 

homes, 
A  frequent    haunt  of  Edith,  on  low 

knolls 
That  dimpling  died  into  each  other, 

huts. 
At  random  scatter*d,  each  a  nest  in 

bloom. 
Her  art,  her  hand,  her  counsel  all  had 

wrought 
About  them ;  here  was  one  that,  sum- 

mer-blanch*d. 
Was  parcel-bearded  with  the  travel- 
ler's joy 
m  autumn,  parcel  iyv-clad ;  and  here 
Th»  warm-Dlue  breatniugs  of  a  hidden 

heart 
Broke  from  a  bower  of  vine  and  honey- 
suckle : 
One  look'd  all  rosetree,  and  another 

wore 
A  close-set  robe  of  jasmine  sown  with 

stars: 
This  had  a  rosy  sea  of  gillyflowers 
About  it ;  this,  a  milky-way  on  earth. 
like  Tisions  in  the  Northern  dreamers 

heavens, 
A  lily-avenue  climbing  to  the  doors ; 
One,  almost  to  the   martin-haunted 

eaves 
A  summer  burial  deep  in  hollyhocks ; 
Each,  its  own  charm ;    and  Edith's 

everywhere ; 
And  Edith  ever  visitant  with  him. 
He  but  less  loved  than  Edith,  of  her 

poor: 
For  she— so  lowly-lovely  and  so  loving. 
Queenly  responsive  when  the  loyal 

hand 
Bose  from  the  day  it  work'd  in  as  she 

past, 
Kot  sowing  hedgerow  texts  and  pass- 
ing by, 
Nor  dealing  goodly  counsel  from  a 

height 
That  makes  the  lowest  hate  it,  but  a 

voice 
Of  comfort  and  an  open  hand  of  help, 
A  splendid  presence  flattering  the  poor 

roofs 
Revered  as  theirs,  but  kindlier  than 

themselves 
To  ailing  wife  or  wailing  infancy 
Or  old  bedridden  palsy,— was  adored ; 
He,  loved  for  her  and  for  himself.    A 

grasp 
Having  the  warmth  and  muscles  of  the 

heart, 
A.  childly  way  with  children,  and  a 

laugh 
ftlfigitig  like  proven  golden  coinage 

true, 
Wera  no  false  passport  to  that  easy 

realm, 


Where  once  with  Leolin  at  her  side, 

the  girl. 
Nursing  a  child,  and  turning  to  the 

warmth 
The  tender  pink  five-beaded  baby-soles, 
Heard  the  good  mother  softly  whispef 

'♦Bless, 
God  bless  'em  :  marriages  are  made  in 

Heaven." 

A  flash  of  semi-jealousy  clear'd  it  to 
her. 

My  lady's  Indian  kinsman  unan- 
nounced 

With  half  a  score  of  swarthy  faces 
came. 

His  own,  tho'  keen  and  bold  and  sol- 
dierly, 

Sear'd  by  the  close  ecliptic,  was  not 
fair; 

Fairer  his  talk,  a  tongue  that  ruled  the 
hour, 

Tho'  seeming  boastful :  so  when  first 
he  dash'd 

Into  the  chronicle  of  a  deedful  day. 

Sir  Aylmer  half  forgot  his  lazy  smile 

Of  patron  "Good!  my  lady's  kins- 
man !  good !  * 

My  lady  with  her  fingers  interloek'd, 

And  rotat'Ory  thumbs  on  silken  knees, 

Call'd  all  her  vital  spirits  into  each 
ear 

To  listen  :  unawares  they  flitted  off, 

Busying  themselves  about  the  flower- 
age 

That  stood  from  out  a  stiff  brocade  in 
which. 

The  meteor  of  a  splendid  season,  she. 

Once  with  this  kinsman,  ah  so  long 
ago, 

Stept  thro'  the  stately  minuet  of  those 
days : 

But  Edith's  eager  fancy  hurried  with 
him 

Snatch'd  thro'  the  perilous  passes  of 
his  life  : 

Till  Leolin  ever  watchful  of  her  eye 

Hated  him  with  a  momentary  hate. 

Wife-hunting,  as  the  rumor  ran,  was 
he: 

I  know  not,  for  he  spoke  not,  only 
shower'd 

His  oriental  gifts  on  every  one 

And  most  on  Edith :  like  a  storm  he 
came. 

And  shook  the  house,  and  like  a  storm 
he  went. 

Among  the  gifts  he  left  her  (possibly 
He  flow'd  and  ebb'd  uncertain,  to  re- 

turn 
When  others  had  been  tested)  there 

was  one. 
A  dagger,  in  rich  sheath  with  jewels 

on  it 
Sprinkled  about  in  gold  that  branch'd 

itself 
Fine  as  ice-ferns  on  January  panes 
Made  by  a  breath.  I  know  not  whenot 

at  first. 


7~ 


\ 


«p 


AYUrF.ieS  FIELD. 


Socatwtuit  nice,  Uic  work;  biiCaa  lie 

Tho    »totj,  dlormlits    ■    Jjill-fort  of 

He  E°'lt ;  <ot  their  nptnln  niter  fleht, 
nil  comrBrlee  having  foiigbc  IheUIsBt 


Sown  from  tlie  beetling  crag  to  wUeh 

Tumbled  tlie  invny  ra-rni  ai  hla  feet, 
lliii  dSE«ir  with  him,  wbicliwlwu  uuw 

By  Editli  whom  Ula  plemuie  was  to 

ploane, 
At  once  tliu  iKjatlj-  Sahib  yleUed  to 

Anil  LsQlIn,  comlug   after  he  was 

Tost  orer  all'her  preientB  petulantW  i 
And  wlicn  she   sliuw'd   the   wesllhy 

scabbard,  SBVltig 
'•  Look  whnl  a  loveLy  yieoe  of  work- 
Slight  w1!i"hU  Lawer  "WeU-I  care 

ncittork;" 
Then  playing  with  the  blade  he  prlck'd 

"  A  gracious  gift  to  Hire  a  lady,  this  !" 
"Bui  would  11   Lb   more  jnwioiu" 

ask'd  the  girt 
"  Wore  1  to  give  this  gift  of  his  lo  one 
THial la  no  lady  ? "    '■  Gradoua?  No" 

"Mo  ?— hut  1  cared  not  for  it.    O  por- 


For  I  am  more  nngcadouB  ev'n  than 

I  rare  not  tor  it  Bltiier ;  "  and  ho  said 
"Why  then  I  lova  it:"  but  Sic  Ayl- 

Anil  neither love'd  uoc  Ulted  the  Ihlug 
he  heanl. 


Id  reds 


he  thought : 


ira  of  it, 

lolBst  fox— whore  alarted 

In  such  B  bottom:  "Peter  had  Ihe 

H;  Peter,  tira't : "  and  did  Sir  Aylmer 

That  great  po«k-pltten  follow  had  beeu 

Then  made  hia  pleasure  odio,  hand  lo 

And  rolling  as  it  were  the  suhslanee 

of  ft 
Between  his  palms  a  moment  up  and 

"The  birds  were  warm,  the  blrdi  were 

TfB  have  him  now:"  'and  had   Sir 
Aylmer  IiBUrd— 


ray.bnjhfl  ninst— Ibe  land  wis 


This  bbielmnilb-bon 

Haw  from  the  narserr— whc 

matal^bild?     ' 
That  ourted  France  wilh  let  egail- 

And  di-l  Sir  Aylmer  (deterenUallT 

With  Rearing  rhair  (mil  lower-il  *j- 
For  people  talk'd— that  it  vas  wholly 
To  let  tliat  handsome  tcllov  Avei 
So  freely  with  hU  daughter?  pedj 
TJe  boy  might  get  e.  notion  into  Mm  t 
The  girl  miglit  h4  «ulaiigleil  eru  ■ha 
Sir  Aylmer  Aylmer  slowly  atittoning 
"  The  girl  and  bo.Tj  Sir,  know  their  an 

"  Good  "said  hia  friend  "butwaldil" 

and  be  ■■  enough, 
Mora  than  enoi^,  Sji  I    I  can  guard 

They  parted,  and  Sir  Aylmer  Aylmsr 
watch-d,  ' 

Pale,  for  on  her  the  tbanders  of  Iht 

Hod  fallen  ant,  was  Edith  that  saioa 

Pale   aa   Die    Jephtha's   daughter,  I' 

Of  early  rigid  color,  under  wbldh 
WlUidrawfng  by  the  counter  door  tA 


On  either  sids  the  hearth.  Indliniaiil ; 

her.  '' 

Cooling  berfalae  cheek  with  a  feather* 


oeeder  to  their  weolUi, 
DBlnliig    plllu  of   Uulr 


AYLMETCS  FIELD. 


195 


M  Boy,  mark  me  I  for  yonr  fortunes  are 

to  mi^e. 
I  swear  you  shall  not  make  them  out 

of  mine. 
ITow  Inasmuch  as  you  have  practised 

on  her, 
Perplext  her,  made  her  half  forget  her- 
self, 
S^erre  from  her  duty  to  herself  and 

us — 
Things  in  an  Aylmer  deem*d  impossi- 
ble, 
Far  as  we  track  ourselves— I  say  that 

this— 
Else  I  withdraw  favor  and  countenance 
From  you  and  yours  forever— shall  you 

do. 
Sir,  when  you  see  her— hut  you  shall 

not  see  her — 
Ko,  you  shall  write,  and  not  to  her,  hut 

me: 
And  you  shall  say  that  having  si>oken 

with  me. 
And  after  look'd  into  yourself,  you 

find 
That  you  meant  nothing— as  indeed 

you  know 
That  you  meant  nothing.  Such  a  match 

as  this ! 
Impossible,  prodigious !  *'    These  were 

words. 
As  meted  by  hi^  measure  of  himself. 
Arguing  boundletis  forbearance :  after 

which. 
And  Leoliu's  horror-stricken  answer, 

"I 
So  foul  a  traitor  to  myself  and  her, 
Never  O  never,"  for  about  as  long 
As  the  wind-hover  hangs  in  balance, 

paused 
^r  Aylmer  reddening  from  the  storm 

within. 
Then  broke  all  bonds  of  courtesy,  and 

crying 
"Boy,  should  I  find  you  by  my  doors 

again. 
My  men  shall  lash  you  from  them  like 

A  dog; 
Hence !  **  with  a  sudden  execration 

drove 
The  footstool  from  before  him,  and 

arose; 
So.  stammering   "scoundrel**  out  of 

teeth  that  ground 
As  in  a  dreadful  dream,  while  Leoliu 

still 
Retreated  half-aghast,  the  fierce  old 

man 
Followed,  and  under  his  own  lintel 

stood 
Storming  with  lifted  hands,  a  hoary 

face 
Meet  for  the  reverence  of  the  hearth, 

but  now. 
Beneath  a  pale  and  unimpassion*d 

moon,  [form'd. 

Text  with  unworthy  madness,  and  de- 

Slowly  and  conacious  of  the  ragef  ul 
eye 


That  watch'd  him,  till  he  heard  the 

ponderous  door 
Close,  crSiShiug  with  long  echoes  thro* 

the  laiid, 
TSTent  Leolin ;  then,  his  passions  all  in 

flood 
And  masters  of  his  motion,  furiously 
Down  thro*  the  bright  lawns  to  his 

brother's  ran, 
And  foam'd  away  his  heart  at  AveriU's 

ear: 
Whom  Averill  solaced  as  he  mightf 

amazed : 
The  man  was  his,  had  been  his  father's 

friend : 
He  must  have  seen,  himself  had  seen 

it  long : 
He   must  have   known,  himself  had 

known :  besides, 
He  never  yet  had  set  his  daughter 

forth 
Here  in  the  woman-markets   of  the 

west. 
Where  our  Caucasians  let  themselves 

be  sold. 
Some  one,  he  thought,  had  slander*d 

Leolin  to  him. 
"  Brother,  for  1  have  loved  you  more 

as  son 
Than  brother,  let  me  tell  you :  I  my- 

self- 
What  is  their  pretty  saying?  jilted, 

is  it? 
Jilted  I  was :  I  say  it  for  your  peace. 
Pain*d,  and,  as  bearing  in  myself  the 

shaine 
The  woman  should  have  borne,  humili- 
ated, 
I  lived  for  years  a  stunted  sunless  life ; 
Till  after  our  good  parents  past  away 
Watching  your  growth,  I  seem'd  again 

to  grow. 
Leolin,  I  almost  sin  in  envying  you : 
The  very  whitest  lamb  in  all  my  fold 
Loves  you :   I  know   her :  the  worst 

thought  she  has 
Is  whiter  even  than  her  pretty  hand  : 
She  must  prove   true :    for,  brother, 

where  two  fight 
The  strongest  wins,  and  truth  and  love 

are  strength. 
And  you  are  happy :  let  her  parents 

be.** 

But  Leolin  cried  out  the  more  upon 

them — 
Insolent,  brainless,  heartless !  heiaess, 

wealth, 
Their  wealth,  their  heiress !    wealth 

enough  was  theirs 
For  twentv  matches.    Were  he  lord  of 

this, 
Why  twenty  boys  and  girls  should 

marry  on  it, 
And  forty  blest  ones  bless  him,  and 

himself 
Be  wealthy  still,  ay  wealthier.     He 

believed 
This  filthy  marriage-hindering  Mam* 

mon  made 


AYLMEH-S  FIELD. 


Th«  ImrlM  of Iho  rUlM !  natur 
WMUioUieraClbaloul  odulicrJ 
Thiit  Mtunita  (oul  wlUi  Ijod;. 


£rDUd:  liawortli 
g  Edi(h-».    Ah  liow  polo  Blio 

Oullns,   to-ii1^t  I  Uuj   muit    bBio 

rated  Ijcr 
Beyond  all  tolonncs.  Theio  old  plieii^ 

■anI-1ord>, 
TliBto  purtrlditi-breedsn  of  a  Uiouaiuil 

'Who  luul  mllilaw'il  In  tbeir  Ibousanda, 

81neo  Eabett— whj,  Uio  greater  ilnlr 

UiB|[TACA  I 

Fall  bttaU  upou  a  name  1  rest,  rot  iu 
Kot  ttxB  n  i.DbU,  make  It  nol>lor? 
WltliBUcU  a  vanlago-erouud  fonioBlo- 
I[o  bad  knuwn  a  man.  a  iiniiiicisotico 
Tbo  lUo  of  nil— who  madly  lorad— and 
Tliwarteil  bf  one  o(  ttieae  old  tather- 


Backw 


Hiig  of  lllin 


t ;  bat  be  bad  pow- 

fflt: 

bis  studies,  mako  a 

world  ahould 

To  ■liaina''theEa  mouldy  Aylmen  In 

CbBDcellor,  or  wbat  Is  graatvit  wuuld 

"ObrDlbor,  lamgrieTed  to  learn  vouc 

(rief— 
Give  ma  mv  lUng,  and  let  me  ray  my 

■ay.'l 
At  whicb.  Ilbo  ona  that  seeB  Ills  onn 
Anil  eaall^  forglvci"  !t  as  lila  own, 

'WeptUfceaetoiini  and  hoiiast  Are  rill 
Bow  lo^  hi!'  Irolher'B  mood  had  fallen, 


Yet  onca  bj  night  again  Ibe  Ittrtia 
A  perUoss  nectiiic  under  Ow  till 
IHat  d:irkHn'd  all  the  norUiwarl  tt 


He,  naR»Ionat«ly  hopefuller,  vouldea 
Labor  furlil*  own  iffith,  and  retur^ 
III  >ufb  a  BUntioht  o(  pnnpetltT 
UoflbouldnolCarelMted.    "Wiib 

Tbey  loved   in«,  and  becaoaa  1 1 

Ibelr  child 
They  hata  me  :  them  is  varbntw 

Which  bieakB  ah  bonds  but  one*; 

Solbertan'^1 


Poor  children,  lor 
wind  blow , 
Ilia  rain  ot  heaven,  and  thdrc 

Teari,  and  the  oareless  lain  ot  Learai,, 

Upon  their  tiuea,  ai  they  kias'd  « 

"    '"  IBUl't 


Bo  Lealli 


in  I  a  laneua 


M altering  the  lanleBB  s< 


May  beat  a  palbway  o 
The)esla™?Btfli»ahM 
Ugbtuing  of  tbo  hoi 


bout  Uio  ttcad- 
-,  (lie  pun,  til* 


111  other  BcandalB  that  liava  llT»d  *nd 

died. 
And  loft  tha  tlTlng  Ecan.lnl  that  BbBU 

Wero  dead  to  him  already ;  bent  ai  hi 

To  make  dlaproot  of  aeom,  and  ftniB| 

And  prodieal  ot  all  br«In-Iabor  he. 
Charier  ot  sleep,  a   ■     " 

Except  nhsn  lor  a 


AYUfEIVS  FIELD. 


197 


Some  niggard  fraction  of  an  hour,  he 
ran 

Beside  the  river-bank :  and  then  in- 
deed 

Harder  the  times  were,  and  the  hands 
of  power 

Were  bloodier,  and  the  according 
hearts  of  men 

8eem*d  harder  too ;  bat  the  soft  river- 

'Which  faiin'd  the  gardens  of  that  rival 

rose 
Yet  fragrant  in  a  heart  remembering 
His  former  talks  vrith  Edith,  on  him 

breathed 
Far  purelier  in  his  mshings  to  and  fro, 
After  liis  books,  to  flush  liis  blood  with 

air, 
Ihen  to  his  books  again.    My  lady's 

cousin, 
Half-sickening  of  his  pension*d  after- 
noon, 
Drove  in  upon  the  student  once  or 

twice. 
Ban  a  Malayan  muck  against   the 

tines. 
Had  golden  hopes  for  France  and  all 

mankind, 
Answer'd  all  queries  touching  those  at 

home 
With  a  heaved  shoulder  and  a  saucy 

smile. 
And  fain  had  haled  him  out  into  the 

world. 
And  air'd  him  there :  his  nearer  friend 

would  say 
**  Screw  not  the  cord  too  sharply  lest  it 

snap.** 
Then  left  alone  he  pluck*d  her  dagger 

forth 
From  where  his  worldless  heart  had 

kept  it  warm, 
Kissing  his  vows  upon  it  like  a  knight. 
And  wrinkled  benchers  often  talk'd  of 

him 
Approvingly,  and  prophesied  his  rise  : 
For  heart,  X  think,  help'd  head ;  her 

letters  too, 
Tho*  far  between,  and  coming  fltf ully 
Xike  broken  music,   written  as   Bue 

found 
Or     made    occasion,    being    strictly 

watch'd, 
Cbarm*d  him  tluro*  every  labyrinth  till 

he  saw 
An  end,  a  hope,  a  light  breaking  upon 

him. 

But  they  that  cast  her  spirit  into 

flesh, 
iler  worldly-wise  begetters,  plagued 

themselves 
To  sell  her,  those  good  parents,  for  her 

good. 
Whatever    eldest-bom    of    rank    or 

wealth 
Might  lie  within  their  compass,  him 

they  lured 
Into  their  net  made  pleasant  by  the 

baito 


Of  gold  and  beauty,  wooing  him  to  woo. 
So  mouth  by  month  the  noise  about 

their  doors. 
And  distant  blaze  of  these  dull  ban* 


quets,  made 
ightly 
uare 


The  nightly  wirer  of  their  innocent 
nare 

Falter  before  he  took  it.    All  in  vain. 

Sullen,  defiant,  pitying,  wroth,  retum*d 

Leolin's  rejected  nvals  from  their  suit 

So  often,  that  the  folly  taking  wings 

Slipt  o'er  those  lazy  limits  down  the 
wind 

With  rumor,  and  became  in  other 
fields 

A  mockerj*  to  the  yeomen  over  ale. 

And  laughter  to  their  lords :  but  those. 
at  home, 

As  hunters  round  a  hunted  creature 
draw 

The  cordon  close  and  closer  toward 
the  death, 

Narrow*d  her  goings  out  and  comings 
in; 

Forbade  her  first  the  house  of  Averill, 

Then  closed  her  access  to  tho  wealthier 
farms. 

Last  from  her  own  home-circle  of  the 
poor 

They  barr'd  her :  yet  she  bore  it :  yet 
her  cheek 

Kept  color  :  wondrous !  but,  O  mys- 
tery I 

What  amulet  drew  her  down  to  that 
old  oak. 

So  old,  that  twenty  years  before,  a  part 

FalUng  had  let  appear  the  brand  of 
John— 

Once  grovelike,  each  huge  arm  a  tree, 
but  now 

The  broken  base  of  a  black  tower,  a 
cave 

Of  touchwood,  with  a  single  flourishing 
spray. 

There  the  manorial  lord  too  curiously 

Kaking  in  that  millemiial  touchwood- 
dust 

Found  for  himself  a  bitter  treasure- 
trove  ; 

Burst  his  own  wyvem  on  the  seal,  and 
read 

Writhing  a  letter  from  his  child,  for 
which 

Came  at  the  moment  Leolin*s  emis- 
sary, 

A  crippled  lad,  and  coming  tum'd  to 

fly. 

But  scared  with  threats  of  jail  and 

halter  gave 
To  him  that  flustered  his  x>oor  parish 

wits 
The  letter  which  he  brought,  and  swore 

besides 
To  play  tlieir  go-between  as  heretofore 
Nor  let  them  know  themselves  be- 

tray'd ;  and  then. 
Soul  stricken  at  their  kindness  to  him, 

went 
Ilating  his  own  lean  heart  and  miser 

able. 


AYLMEirS  FIELD. 


A*  U  the  llilDE  pa 

Wan)  lliltut  n»tT' 

anAumi. 

How  dialing  HI  bl 


Tbc  (attitr  pMitlBt  wok*,  uid  oCi.  n 
ArasMd  iIm  black  republle  on  Ui 
Bwscpliig  Um  IrotliaT  (rom  itia  Crams 
Tbic'  tlM  •Um  nwutow  lawua  bli 
Sctovl  II,  tAok  home,  ud  lo  m;  Udj,— 
A  llinniwsM  cnaecnt  of  hec  tninion 
liitleM  tn  ul  dapondmce,— reoil  i 
inmbol'd  there 

KowJlrtiTtnK  on  hage  ilmobllBg-blodlu 

!InhBbTlHna,«iil  deal  diminutives 
InutOT'd  ill  OTer  the  vodflbulnry 
Ot  meh  Klore  m  tike  a  i^idden  cbtM, 
AfUr  nincli  walling,  buah-dluelf  u  |b>i 
XopekH  of  uuwer  :  Ibeu  tho'  ATeiill 
Tl 
I 
H 
•' 
It 


Fj4id  bada  him  wllb  ewoI  l>eart  nuniin 
>  well— the  lorer  heeded 
But   paMionalely  rettleH   cama    bdiI 


./  a  keopor  »hol  at.  slightiy 
Baglng  rslum'd:  nor  vat  It  well  fur 
Keft  to  Lhe  garden  uow,  and  giore  of 
WatcL-tUni'iUiarB;  and  one  wa»  set 
'.^M  vatehBr,  and  Sir  Aytmor  walch'd 
from  bli  TDulinga ;  ones 
Waini'J  with  hll  wlnei,  DC  taUng  pride 

Utot  IcDOwliis  wtmt  posaou'd  him  :  [hat 

Wu  Lnolin'n 

oaitU 

BcKindad,  lor 


Indv  foUov 


er  of  hU  faded  loT 


•  Ue  Roldoi 

The  molil 

^H    ,  KavBt 
^^H|  Botliatlli 


ir  tlnv'd  In  aluUoi 
KavBt  one  kludlj  imlle,  on 


Botliatlliuceiitlaci 


ona  kindlj- 
ihut  from 


ipon  bim  half-aiiften  frtna 

With  a  weinl  bright  eve.  sweatlne  ud 

Irombliu^,  ^ 

nil  hair  a*  II   wen  crackling  InM 

JIlii  body  hair  flnng  tarwnml  In  pn: 
And  his  long  niuw  Btrelch'd  a«  to  i 

a  liver: 
XoT  luiew  he  wberefore  ho  hail  i 

And  being  mocli  befool'd  and  Idiotcd 

Ily  Uia  ronghaniity  of  the  other,  sa  ' 
Ai  Into  Bleep  ag^u.    Theaeconddi 
My  iBdy'B  Indlaii  klniman  mfhlnefn, 
A  breaker  of  the  hlCttr  ue*«  ltw» 

Found  a  dend  man,  a  lettcc  edged  Willi 

deBlh 
Beside  him.  nnd   tbe   dagger   i 

Gave  Edith,  redden'd  with  no  bai 

"PiomKdlth"  woi  cngraTeu  oi 


his  deaUi, 


and  gaaei]  npo 

le  iigslQ,  his  Dock  be- 

Beholding  how  Iho  yenra  which  a 

Hud  blasted  liim— tbat  many  Itiouiand 

Wero  elipt  by  horror  from  hla  ter 

Tel  tbe  end  mother,  for  tbe  M 
dualb 


AYLMEIPS  FIELD, 


199 


8eaxee  toneh'd  her  thro'  that  nearness 

of  the  first, 
And  being  used  to  find  her  pastor 

texlK, 
Sent  to  the  harrowed  brother,  praying 

him 
To  speak  before  the  people   of  her 

child. 
And  flxt  the  Sabbath.    Darkly  that 

day  rose : 
Automn^s  mock  sunshine  of  the  faded 

woods 
Was   all   the  life   of  it ;  for  hard  on 

these, 
A  breathless  burden    of  low-folded 

heavens 
Stifled  and  chill*d  at  once ;   but  every 

roof 
Sent  out  a  listener:  many  too  had 

known 
Edith  among  the  hamlets  round,  and 

since 
The  parents'  harshness  and  the  hap- 
less loves 
And  double  death  were  widely  mur- 

mur'd,  left 
Their  own  gray  tower,  or  plain-faced 

tabernacle. 
To  hear  him ;  all  in  mourning  these, 

and  those 
With  blots  of  it  about  them,  ribbon, 

glove 
Or  kerchief ;    while  the  church,— one 

night,  except 
For  sreenish  glimmerings   thro'   the 

lancets,— made 
Still  paler  the  pale  head  of  him,  who 

tower'd 
Above  them,  with  his  hopes  in  either 

grave. 

Lone  o'er  his  bent  brows  lingered 

AveriU, 
His  face  magnetic  to  the  hand  from 

which 
livid  he  pluck'd  it  forth,  and  labor'd 

thro' 
His  brief  prayer-prelude,   gave    the 

verse  •*  Behold, 
Tour  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate  !'• 
Bat  lapsed  into  so  long  a  pause  again 
As  half  amazed  half  Irighted  all  his 

flock: 
Then  from  his  height  and  loneliness 

of  grief 
Bore  down  in  flood,  and  dash'd  his 

ansry  heart 
Against  the  desolations  of  the  world. 

Kever  since  our  bad  earth  became 

one  sea, 
Which  rolling  o'er  the  palaces  of  the 

proud. 
And  all  but  those  who  knew  the  living 
^        God— 
•Hii^t  that  were  left  to  make  a  purer 

world— 
XVlien  since  had  flood,  fire,  earthquake, 

thunder,  wrought 
Bach  waste  and  havoc  as  the  idolatries 


Which  from  the  low  light  of  mortality 
Shot  up  their  shadows  to  the  Heaven 

of  Heavens, 
Andworshipt  their  own  darkness  as 

the  Highest  ? 
**  Gash  thyself,  priest,  and  honor  thy 

brute  Baftl, 
And  to  thy  worst  self  sacrifice  thyself. 
For  with  thy    worst   self  hast   thou 

clothed  thy  God. 
Then  came  a  Lord  in  no  wise  like  to 

Ba&l. 
The  babe  shall  lead  the  lion.    Surely' 

now 
The  wilderness  shall  blossom  as  the 

rose. 
Crown  thyself, worm,  and  worship  thine 

own  lusts  !— 
No  coarse  and  blockish  God  of  acreage 
Stands  at  thy  gate  for  thee  to  grovel 

to— 
Thy  God  is  far  diffused  in  noble  groves 
And  princely  halls,  and  farms,  and 

flowing  lawns. 
And  heaps  of  living  gold  that  daily 

/sjrow. 
And  title-scrolls  and  gorgeous  herald- 
ries. 
In  such  a  shape  dost  thou  behold  thy 

God. 
Thou  wilt  not  gash  thy  flesh  for  him; 

for  thine 
Fares  richly,  in  fair  linen,  not  a  hair 
Buflled  upon  the  scarf  skin,  even  while 
The  deatnless  ruler  of  thv  dying  house 
Is  wounded  to  the  deatii  that  cannot 

die; 
And  tho'  thou  numberest  with  the  fol- 
lowers 
Of  One  who  cried  *  leave  all  and  follow 

me,' 
Thee  therefore  with  His  light  about 

thy  feet. 
Thee  with  His  message  ringing  in  thine 

ears. 
Thee  shall  thy  brother  man,  the  Lord 

from  Heaven, 
Born  of  a  village  girl,  carpenter's  son, 
Wonderful;  Prince  of  peace,the  Mighty 

God, 
Count  the  more  base  idolater  of  the  two; 
Crueller :  as  not  passing  thro*  the  tire 
Bodies,    but   soujs  — thy  children's — 

thro*  the  smoke. 
The  blight  of  low  desires— darkening 

thine  own 
To  thine  own  likeness;  or  if  one  of 

these, 
Thy  better  bom  unhappily  from  thee. 
Should,  as  by  miracle,  grow  straight 

and  fair- 
Friends,  I  was  bid  to  speak  of  such  a 

one 
By  those  who  most  have  cause  to  sor- 
row for  her— 
Fairer  than  Rachel  by  the  palmy  well. 
Fairer  than  Ruth  among  the  fields  of 

com. 
Fair  as  the  Angel  that  said  *hair  aha 

seem'dy 


V 


"Wbo  entirinit  OU'd  tlie  hoaae  «iUi  md- 
deii  II  gh 
IT  HI   mliie  own   was    biigliten'd : 

le  roof  to  lowly  lint  that  bean.  o( 

HeavBTi 
iwn'daoiOBtinielhro'  tha  doorway? 

•o  ruffed  tg  he  f  oiuUcd  on  her  lap, 
imuTat  her  botom  :■  lliu  poor  t£ild 


: 


;  for  her  fresh  nnd  Inno- 

,  BUT  ot  moniLne  In  theli: 

Tlmt  all  nBglecte^l  plar«  o£  Ilie  field 
™-oke  Into  nature's  miuic  wlieu  Uicy 

IiOw  was  her  voice,  bat  won  in  jB  terlfim 

Thro'  Uie  seal'd  car  to  which  a  louder 

.  BilEECe— fteo  of  alms  her 

iBt  robed  your  Fottaj^walla 

toll'd  to  clothB  jour  little 


in  the  I 


10  Bide  betwaeu 
emch  other  I  for 


■WuB  alwnyfl  with  her,  wliom  jou  also 
Him  too  3'ou  loved,  for  be  was  norlhy 
Andtheee  had  been  together  from  the 
They  nilahl  have  been  together  till  the 

Frioiide,  tills  frail  bark  of  ours,  when 

•orely  tried, 
May  wreck  iMelf  without  tho  pllofa 

guilt, 


Without 


with  shnm«  v 


I    captHiu'i    knoirledge 
IBt,  It  he 


Xurinlue  Uie  buU,  1 


vall». 


■  My  houa 

WhUe  tliUB   he    Bp»ke,  hia  b 
Song  ot  Uoe'  glebu,  *liii  other  Irowiu 
That  knit 


iwl'U 


t   lor. 


Hs,  wbon  ll 


Of  the  near  atonn,  ajid  aiming  at  liii 

Sat  anget-fharm'd  Irom  »oct<tw,  Bl- 

Erect ;   but  when  the    preacher*!  a- 

Softening  thro'  alUhoKenlleattribom 
Of  Mh  lo-iiLlId,  the  wlfe.whowawL'a 

Pnleil  at  a  aiidden  twitch  ot  bi«  Iron 

mouth  : 
Aud  "O  pray  God  that  ho  hold  up" 

'■Or  surely!  fliall  Bhame  nij»elf  ini 

"^"Bl^"^"hearuS*~*'""  """  ** 
Can  take  her  phue— IE  echolne  mtyot 

cry 
'  Our  house  Is  left  unto  hb  dnolUe  t ' 
But   thou,  O  ihuu  that  killeBi,  hid 

O  thou  that  BiouBBt,  Imdst  thou  under 

The  things  belonging  to  thy  pcao 

1b  there  no  prophet  but  the  voice  tint 

Doom  upon  klngi,  or  In  thewaan 

pent'  T 
Is  Hot  our  own  child  on  tho  nanov 

Who  ilown  to  those  that  aaonterlutb 

CrieE '  como  up  hither,'  as  a  prophetl 

inlng  eavo  with  Qiut  ii 


IB  there  no  Bt< 

Ves,  aa  the  dead  wo  weep  for  teiUfy-' 


Nodi 


YoB,  as  youi 


but  by  sv 


lingi  witDen,  and 

inellar,  darker,  oarthllet  far  ttl 

me  your  prajeri!,  foe  he  la  naM 
your  urajcm, 

past  tlie  living  fount  ot  Bltyla 
Hoaven. 
But  I  that  thought  myself  long-tuffsi- 

lln'n  'poor  la  spirit'— how  111* 

upon  tl 


Excecdli 


AYLMERS  FIELD. 


201 


Vileness,  xre  are  grown  so  proud— I 
wish'd  ray  voice 

A  rosliing  tempest  of  the  irrath  of  God 

To  blow  these  sacritlces  thro'  the 
world — 

Sent  like  the  twelve-divided  concu- 
bine 

To  inflame  the  tribes  :  but  there— out 
yonder— earth 

lightens  from  her  own  central  Hell— 
O  there 

Tho  red  fruit  of  an  old  idolatry — 

The  heads  of  chiefs  and  princes  fall  so 
fast, 

They  cling  together  in  the  ghastly 
sack — 

The  land  all  shambles— naked  mar- 
riages 

Flash  from  the  bridge,  and  ever-mur- 
der'd  France, 

By  shores  that  darken  with  the  gather- 
ing wolf, 

Huns  in  a  river  of  blood  to  the  sick 
sea. 

Is  this  a  time  to  madden  madness 
then? 

Was  this  a  time  for  these  to  flaunt 
their  pride  ? 

Hay  Pharaoh's  darkness,  folds  as  dense 
as  those 

TThich  hid  the  Holiest  from  the  peo- 
ple's eyes 

£re  the  great  death,  shroud  this  great 
sin  from  all ! 

Doubtless  our  narrow  world  must  can- 
vass it: 

0  rather  pray  for  thoj^o  and  pity  them, 
"Who  thro'  their  own  desire  accom- 
plish *d  brinp: 

Their  own  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to 
the  grave — 

Who  broke  the  bond  which  they  de- 
sired to  break, 

Which  else  had  link'd  their  race  with 
times  to  come — 

Who  wove  coarse  webs  to  snare  her 
purity. 

Grossly  contriving  their  dear  daugh- 
ter's good — 

Poor  souls,  and  knew  not  what  they 
did,  but  sat 

Ignorant,  devising  their  own  daugh- 
ter's* death  ! 

Kay  not  that  earthly  chastisement  suf- 
fice? 

Have  not  our  love  and  reverence  left 
them  bare  ? 

Will  not  another  take  their  heritage  ? 

Will  there  be  children's  laughter  in 
their  hall 

For  ever  and  for  ever,  or  one  stone 

Left  on  another,  or  is  it  a  light  thing 

That  I  their  guest,  their  host,  their  an- 
cient fnend. 

1  made  by  these  tibe  last  of  all  my  race 
Must  cry  to  these  the  last  of  theirs,  as 

cried 
Christ  ere  His  agony  to  those  fhat  swore 
Kot  by  the  temple  but  the  gold,  and 

made 


Their  own  traditions  God,  and  slew  th6 
Lord, 

And  left  their  memories  a  world's 
curse — *  Behold, 

Your  house  is  left  unto  you  des- 
olate'?'* 

Ended  ho  had  not,  but  she  brook'd 
no  more : 

Long  since  her  heart  had  beat  re- 
morselessly. 

Her  crampt-up  sorrow  pain'd  her,  and 
a  sense 

Of  meanness  in  her  unresisting  life. 

Then  their  eyes  vext  her;  for  on  en- 
tering 

Ho  had  cast  the  curtains  of  their  seat 

aside- 
Black  velvet  of  the  costliest— she  her- 
self 

Had  seen  to  that :  fain  had  s^e  closed 
them  now, 

Yet  dared  not  stir  to  do  it,  only  near'd 

Her  husband  inch  by  inch,  biit  when 
fihe  laid, 

Wifelike,  her  hand  in  one  of  his,  ho 
veil'd 

His  face  with  the  other,  and  at  once, 
as  falls 

A  creeper  when  the  prop  is  broken, 
fell 

The  woman  shrieking  at  his  feet,  and 
swoon'd. 

Then  her  own  people  bore  along  the 
nave 

Her  pendent  hands,  and  luirrow  mea- 
gre face 

Seam'd  with  the  shallow  cares  of  fifty 
years : 

And  her  the  Lord  of  all  the  landscape 
round 

Kv'n  to  his  last  horizon,  and  of  all 

Who  peer'd  at  him  so  keenly,  foUow'd 
out 

Tall  and  erect,  but  in  the  middle  aisle 

lieel'd,  as  a  footsore  ox  in  crowded 
ways 

Stumbling  across  the  market  to  his 
death, 

Unpitied  ;  for  he  groped  as  blind,  and 
seem'd 

Always  about  to  fall,  grasping  the 
pews 

And  oaken  finials  till  he  touch'd  the 
door; 

Yet  to  the  jychgate,  where  his  chariot 
stood. 

Strode  from  the  porch,  tall  and  erect 
again. 

But  nevermore  did  either  pass  the 

gate 
Save  under  pall  with  bearers.    In  one 

month, 
Thro*   weary  and  yet  ever  wearier 

hours. 
The  childless  mother  went  to  seek  her 

child ; 
And  when  he  felt  the  silence  of  hid 

house 


i 


V 


SKA  DtlEAMS. 


Aboat  Mm,  nnd  the  chnnge  and  not 

And  tliaie  lixt  ej'«  of  p&lnted  ances- 

BtaringfnrEvnfrnintheir^ldeclwnlls 
OaMin  JicirlHAbilifuenilfuiL,  Mb  own 


;   hli  0 


Dead  for  two  yeiLrs  bel 

But  wliunlLe  second  C}: 

IIU  kaeoara,  and  the  slli 

Tn  fliHl  a  ileaper  In  the  i 
By  wife  and  cMld  i  uor 


■row  glftom 
lnj(  ilealh 


TlBii  the  BToat  Hall  was  wholly  Drokei 
And  Oie  broad  woodland  porcoll' J  tiit< 


The  hedgehog  nDdenieath  llio  plantain 
Therabbic'tondleB  his  own  hnnjileas 
The  BlDn-'norm  creeps,  and  the  lliln 


BEA  DETAJIH. 
tlerk,  but   gently  bora   nnd' 
artisfa  orphni, 
was  theirs,  a  Slaigaiet,  UirBo 


thlld- 


I 


I  the   glBnt-Iactoried    city- 


Had  riBk'd  Ms    ]ltOc)llko  the 


And  oft,  when  Bitting  all  alone,  h 


WouliI  darken,  nshe 

And  that  one 'nnpiioiu  moolh  nbkl 

TobnjstraiiEHshaica'in  somePcni- 

Now  seaward-bonnd   for  health  tbej 

All  Band  and  cUn  alid  deep-iiirBBnliig 

At  close  of  day  ;  Blcpt,  WDko,and''tnl 

The  Salibalb,  pious  xarlcm  from  Uh 

To  chnpol  :  where  a  heated  jiulpltrrt, 
Not  pisat-lilug  slmplB  Lkriet  to  Buiipti 

Auuuiiiiced  the  ooming  doom,  audlut- 

Agalnsl  llie  scarlet  nonuui  nod  lieT 

hia  usii, 


'andSllelrr 

lius.  Ihuswll' 

he  lield 


with  vl 


The  AporsJypllo  inlllstono,  and 

Were  that  great  Angel,-  "  Tiiu  wlU 

Shnll  Babylon  bo  cast  into  the  w 
Tbsn  comes  the  closo."    Tho  c 
hearted  wife 

:  but  Rhcn  tlio  ' 

forth  they  came  and 


t  shuddering 


e  Ion 


Drank   the  larce    air,  and 

acarcB  beUeve.1 
(The  Boocaake  oC  bo  monr  i 

still 
Clnne  to  their  fancies)  that  theyaao- 

"""oncllT  ^^  '  "'"' 

IJngerIng  about  the  thymy  pronuuitf^ 

Till  all  tlie  B^ls  wore  darken'd  In  tbg 

And  r«e<l  in  Uie  «aat :  than  hametrard 

and  to  bed : 
Where  she,  who  kept  a  tendtr  Clirfi- 

tian  hope 
HHuntinB  aholy  text, 

gfit. 


'Lotni 
iaid,  "Love 


0  Iiim 


'  bat  b* 


And  elleiiied  by  that  silence  lay  t 
ItemeniberlngheT  dear  Lord  vho  dl< 
And    musing    on  the   IltUo  Uvea  tt 
.Ind how tbcyciar this  little  by 


SEA  DBEA3IS. 


20S 


But  vliile  fhe  two  were  sleeping,  a 

full  tide 
Boee  with  groand-«wel1y  which,  on  the 

foremost  rocks 
Touching,  upjetted  in  spirts  of  wild 

sea-smoke, 
And  scaled  in  sheets  of  wasteful  foam, 

and  fell 
In  vast  searcataracts— ever  and  anon 
Dead  claps  of  thunder  from  within  the 

cUffii 
Heard  thro*  the  living  roar.    At  this 

the  babe, 
Their  Margaret  cradled  near  them, 

waird  and  woke 
The  mother,  and  the  father  suddenly 

cried, 
"  A  wreck,  a  wreck  I  *'  then  tum*d,  and 

groaninz  said, 
"  Forgive  !  Bow  many  will  say,  *  f  op- 

gnre,*  and  find 
A  sort  of  absolution  in  the  sound 
To  liate  a  little  longer  I  No ;  the  sin 
That  neither  God  nor  man  can  well 

forgive, 
Hypocrisy,  I  saw  it  in  him  at  once. 
Is  it  so  true  that  second  thoughts  are 

best? 
Not  first,  and  third,  which  are  a  riper 

first? 
Too  ripe,  tc*o  late  I  they  come  too  late 

for  use. 
Ah  love,  there  surely  lives  in  man  and 

beast 
Something  divine  to  warn  them  of 

their  foes : 
And  such  a  sense,  when  first  I  fronted 

him. 
Said,  *  trust  him  not ;  *  but  after,  when 

I  came 
To  know  him  more,  I  lost  it,  knew  him 

less; 
Fought  with  what  seem*d  my  own  un- 

charity ; 
Sat  at  his  table;    drank  his  costly 

wines; 
Made  more  and  more  allowance  for  his 

talk: 
Went  f urtner,  fool !  and  trusted  him 

with  all. 
All  my  poor  scrapings  from  a  dozen 

years 
Of  dust  and  deskwork:  there  is  no 

such  mine, 
Kott^  ;  but  a  gulf  of  ruin,  swallowing 

gold, 
Mot  making.    Buin*d !  ruinM !  the  sea 

roars 
Bain :  a  fearful  night !  *' 

'•  Not  fearful ;  fair  " 
Said  the  good  wife,  **  if  every  star  in 

heaven 
Can  make  it  fair :  you  do  but  hear  the 

tide. 
Had  you  ill  dreams  ?  " 

"  O  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  dream*d 
Of  such  a  tide  swelling  toward  the 

land. 
And  I  from  out  the  boundless  outer 

deen 


Swept  with  it  to  the  shore,  and  ent6r*d 

one 
Of  those  dark  caves  that  run  beneatli 

the  cliffs. 
I  thouffht  the  motion  of  the  boundless 


ugj 
cTe 


eep 
Bore  throuch  the  cave,  and  I  was 

heaveu  upon  it 
In  darkness:  then  I  saw  one  lovely 

star 
Larger  and  larger.    *  What  a  world,*  I 

thought. 

*  To  live  in  !  *  but  in  movinff  on  I  found 
Only  the  landward  exit  of  uie  cave. 
Bright  with  the  sun  upon  the  stream 

beyond : 
And  near  the  light  a  giant  woman  sat. 
All  over  earthy,  like  a  piece  of  earth, 
A  pickaxe  in  her  hand:  then  out  I 

slipt 
Into  a  land  all  sun  and  blossom,  trees 
As  high  as  heaven,  and  every  bird  tha^ 

sings  : 
And  here  the  night-light  flickering  iu 

my  eyes 
Awoke  me.'* 

*'  That  was  then  your  dream,*'  shd 
said, 
"  Not  sad,  but  sweet." 

"  So  sweet,  I  lay,**  said  he, 
**  And  mused  upon  it,  drifting  up  the 

stream 
In  fancy,  till  I  slept  again,  and  pieced 
The  broken  vision ;  for  I  ureamVl  that 

still 
The  motion  of  the  great  deep  bore  me 

on. 
And  that  the  woman  walk*d  upon  the 

brink: 
I  wonder'd  at  her  strength,  and  ask*d 

her  of  it : 

*  It  came,*  she  said,  *  by  working  in  the 

mines :  * 
O   then   to   ask  her  of  my  shares,  I 

thought ; 
And  ask'd ;  but  not  a  word;  she  shook 

her  head. 
And  then  tlie  motion  of  the  current 

ceased,* 
And  there  was  rolling  thunder ;  and  we 

reach 'd 
A  mountain,  like  a  wall  of  burrs  and 

thorns ; 
But  she  with  her  strong  feet  up  the 

steep  hill 
Trod  out  a  path  :  I  follow*d ;  and  at 

top 
She  pointed  seaward ;  there  a  fleet  of 

glass, 
That  seem'd  a  fleet  of  jewels  under  me, 
Sailing  along  before  a  gloomy  cloud 
That  not  one  moment  ceased  to  thun* 

der,  past 
In  sunshine :   right  across  its  track 

there  lay, 
Down  in  the  water,  a  long  reef  of  gold, 
Or  what  seem*d  gold  :  and  I  was  glau 

at  first 


\ 


■WW 


201 


SEA  nBEAMS. 


To  tblnli  IbntlnonT  often-nuiHcli'd 

BOtId 

11  BO  m-ch  gold  wiu  left ;  ond  Oien 

ittliecBj'  nOTyUierosliould>pliiit«r 

And  fnulng  waved  m;  ami  to  warn 


could  huve  < 
Touch'd,~('link'd,Bndcluh'd,aiid 


'It) 


Among  thfl  lioDCBt  Elicioldien    ot  tls  j 


,;:;.«■ 


T.'rocli'd  on  u  rsef  of  vlalonnrj-  gold." 

'■  Kay,"  »ald  the  kindly  wlta  to  com. 

tort  him, 
"  Yob  raised  Jour  arm,  tdu  tumblai 

iloirii  and  broka 
~       ■  ■■.hllttlaMsTgarot'i  medl 


le  in  It ; 
.      reaklii 


tbat, 


AldlleiaakeBadreaiu,atriQa  Lrcolca." 

"Ko  tcifle,"  groan'd  Iha  liusbandi 

metbtm  ■uddeul]'  in  Ilia  straot.  and 

ThalwIildilaek'dUio  womaii  l;i  mj 

Like  lior,  ho  ahooX  hla  bend.    ■  Zhoir 

He  dodged  ma  with  a  long  and  looao 

e  books,  Iha  books  I '  but  be,  he 
coald  not  wait, 
Bound   on  a  macler  lio  ol  llCo  and 


t  Books 


Wera  open'd,  1  abould  And  he  r 
Itheubegaulo  bloBt  MmscU 


dran»t  fiiand. 
H»To  fallli,  Imve  taith  1  We  live 

luilli,'  iBld  ho ; 
■  Aud  all  tblugs  work  losellicr  for 


1  that  dings  down  hi*  llto !  Iken 
colter;  and  be  mennt.b 
laoajit,  you  well." 

■  \ntb  all  Ida  ronactenco 
cya  wikew  '— 

I  b  likewlBo"c^Mrl  fnr 


J.,(t'iH 


rtofynn 


;o  false,  be  partly  look  blmsel 
STioBo  piouH  talk,  when  most  bli  hciit 
dadowpt  tba  crafty  rrowBtoot  roniil 
lug  God    encep 


gain. 
Tain : 


aelnl  : 


0  Him 


Criptmy  liand  liard,  and  wltb  God- 

blew-JOU  won 
I  ilood  like  aue  thi 

blow: 
I  tountl  a  bard    friend  iu  Lis  tooae 

IB  Inlbo  hard  Eripnfbla  band, 
;ae  in  hi»  God-bloM-yoa  i  then 


i«  ralapaw  and  Um  CTOt 

0  bait  to  trap  his  daps 

Nordoertaof  Bi£t',butEirt*  ofgnicel 

inakt-llko  tlimed  hla  liciim  ci 

oft   at  iTibla'  msetJngB,   o'er  lb« 

Arising,  did  bis  holy  oily  beat, 
"— .piui  the  too  rough  H  In  Hi 

To  spread  the  Word  by  which  b 

How  Ilka  you  this  old  antlte  ?  " 

"  I  loathe  It :  be  had  iierar  kyndiyl.-,^ 
Nor  ever  tared  lo  better  hia  own  kloA,  ■ 
Wbo  tint  wrote  aatlre.wttli  no  nltj  Iu  IL  I 
But  will  yon  hear  mp  dreoju,  tor  1  bH '■ 


SEA  DREAMS. 


£06 


''—But  round  tho  North,  a  light, 
ill  belt,  it  Beem'd,  of  luminous  vapor, 

lay, 
And  ever  iii  it  a  low  mufical  note 
8well*d  up  and  died  ;  and,  aa  itsweird, 

a  ridge 
Of  brealcer  iSdued  from  the  belt,  and 

Btill 
Grew  wiih  the  growing  note,  and  when 

the  note 
Had  reach'd  a  thunderous  fulness,  on 

those  cliffs 
Broke,  mixt  with  awful  light  (the  same 

as  that 
Living  within  the  belt)  whereby  she  saw 
That  all  those  lines  of  cliffs  were  cliils 

no  more. 
But  huge  cathedral  fronts  of  every  age 
Grave,  florid,  stern,  as  far  as  eye  could 

see. 
One    after  one :  and  then  the  great 

ridge  drew, 
Lessening  to  the  lessening  music,  back. 
And  past  into  the  belt  and    sweird 

again 
Slowly  to  music  :  ever  when  it  broke 
The  statues,  king  or  saint,  or  founder 

fell; 
Then  from  the  gaps  and  chasms  of  ruin 

left 
Came  men  and  women  in  dark  clusters 

round, 
Some  crying,  *  Set  them  up !  they  shall 

not  fall  ! ' 
And  others  '  Let  them  lie,  for  they 

have  fall'n.* 
And  still  they  strove  and  wrangled  ; 

and  she  grieved 
In  her  strange  dream,  she  knew  not 

why,  to  find 
Their  wildest  wailings  never  out  of 

tune 
With  that  sweet  note ;  and  ever  as  their 

shrieks 
Ban  highest  up  the  gamut,  that  great 

wave 
Betuming,  while  none  mark'd  it,  on 

the  crowd 
Broke,  mixt  with  awful    light,    and 

show'd  Uieir  eyes 
Glaring,   and    passionate   looks,  and 

swept  away 
The  men  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  men 

of  stone. 
To  the  waste  deeps  together. 

*'  Then  I  fixt 
My  wistful  eyes  on  two  fair  images, 
BoLh    crown*d  with  stars    and    high 

amono;  the  stars, — 
The  Virgin  Mother  standing  with  her 

child 
High  up  on  one  of  those  dark  minster- 
fronts — 
Till  she  began  to  totter,  and  the  child 
Clung  to  the  mother,  and  sent  out  a  cry 
Which  mixt  with  little  Margaret's,  and 

I  woke. 
And  my  dream  awed  me:— well— >but 
what  are  dreams  ? 


Yours  came  but  from  the  breaking  of 

glass, 
And  mine  but  from  the  crying  of  a 

child." 

«  Child  ?  No  !  "  said  he,  "  but  thij 

tide's  roar,  and  liis, 
Our  Boanerges  with  his  threats  of  doom. 
And  loud-lung'd  Aniibabyloniaiiisros 
(Altho*  I  grant  but  little  music  thei-e) 
Went  both  to  make  your  dream  :  but 

if  there  were 
A  music  harmonizing  our  wild  cries, 
Sphere-music  such  as  that  you  dreani'd 

about, 
"Why,  that  would  make  our  passions 

far  too  like 
The  discords  dear  to  the  musician.  No - 
One  shriek  of  hate  would  jar  all  the 

hymns  of  heaven : 
True  Devils  with  no  ear,  they  howl  in 

tune 
With  nothing  but  the  Devil  I » 

*'  •  True  *  indeed  I 

One  of  our  town,  but  Inter  by  an  hour 

Here  than  ourselves,  spoke  with  me  on 
the  shore  ; 

While  you    were  running   down  the 
sands,  and  made 

The  dimpled    flounce  of  the  sea-fur- 
below flap. 

Gooil  man,  to  please  the  child.   She 
brought  ptrange  newa. 

Why  were  you  silent  when  1  spoke  to- 
night ? 

I  had  set  my  heart  on  your  forgiving 
him 

Before  you  knew.  Wo  must  forgive  the 
dead." 
**  Dead  !  who  is  dead  ?  *' 

**  The  man  your  eye  pursued. 
A  little  after  you  had  parted  witli  him. 
He  suddenly   dropt    dead    of   heart- 
disease." 

**  Dead  ?  he  ?  of  heart-disease  ?  what 
heart  had  he 
To  die  of  ?  dead  I  " 

"  Ah,  dearest,  if  there  be 
A  devil  in  man.  there  is  an  angel  too. 
And  if  he  did  tnat  wrong  you  charge 

him  with, 
His  angel  broke  his  heart.    But  your 

rough  voice 
(You  spoke  so  loud)  has  roused  the 

child  again. 
Sleep,  little  biraie,  sleep  !  will  she  not 

sleep 
Without  her  *  little  birdie  ?  *  well  then, 

sleep. 
And  I  will  sing  you  *  birdie.'  " 

Saying  this. 
The  woman  half  turn'  d  round  from 

him  she  loved. 
Left  him  one  hand,  and  reaching  thro' 

the  ni;;ht 
Her  other, found  (for  it  wrs  close  beside) 
And  half  embraced  tho  basket  cradle* 

boad 


f- 


THE  GRANDMOXnER. 


'Ith  one  mrt  arm,  nUcli,  like  the 

p])i.i»  bougti 
bat  maviiiB  luovm  Uie  nest 

ling,  Bwsy'd 
hs  cmdle,  wkilo  Bha  (luig  tMi  baby 
Bonj. 
IThnt  doos  IlCtlfl  blrdlo  ta.f 
111  hei  iirac  al  !>eep  of  day  ? 
ijit  loq  fly,  say.  liHIe  U.illo, 

niiigB  aca  airoDgcr. 
nuBHo  H.BJU.  Hide  loiiKor, 
Then  Bba  flies  away. 
■Wlmt  dnea  liltle  bab»  my, 
111  lier  bed  at  pwp  bt  <Uy7 
Bnliy  savi.  Jtke  lILlle  blidia. 
Let  me  fi>s  and  fly  away. 
Baby,  sleep  a  litUa  longer. 
Till  tiiH  littlo  limtn  are  BtrouBor. 
ir  ibe  Bloeps  a  llUle  longer 
Baby  too  aiiall  fly  awuy. 


Illrtlle,  n 


E  OEAJSDMOniEB, 


eldeat-bom,  la  pjiie, 


Buddy,  and  w 
*.nd  Willy's 


For,  Annie,  yon  aac,  her  tatter  waa  rii 

Hadn't  ■  head  to  manage,  and  drar 

ldm«elt  into  Wb  grave. 
Pretty  enough,  vep  pretty  1  but  I  -v. 


te'a  a  lag  lor  B  babe  o(  a  w«li  1 " 
■ays  Jovlor  -,  luid  be  touIJ  I> 

jwaa  not  lilH  llkB  Ibat  joar  ii 

Strong;  of  bis  liandfi,  nnil  atrong  on  liii 

leff,,  bulaiill  oE  biatonaue  I 
longbt  tu  na*a  gone  befora  Ud;  ] 

not  err  for  hini,  Auule  :  I  lian 

TorliapB  1  Bliair«BB  Li  m  t'ho  sooner.  In 

AThy  do  you  look  at 
till  Ilk  I  am  hn 
LutaUai       


4 


■mily,  mybennty, 

Wl!:y  Bliiodllkc 


Imnl  and  rold ; 


lor  \ 


Only  a 


weepfcrthi 


PorlTt 
Alt  for  1 


la  dae.lg  yot  live,  lie  worst  Id  y 
let  roil r  sleep  for  Ibis  one  nigbt 


a  qoarrel  1  had  mi 
UB  story,  uiatcMtlW 

Biidfalber,  Annio:  11 
world  ot  woe. 
0,  my  dullug,  unntr 

For  JennT,  my  cousin,  bad  coma  toUv 

place,  audi  knew  right  w*11 

That  Jonuy  had  tript  In  her  llmB  :  I 


And  abo  to  be  eon 

me.  the  l>a 

Cut  Uie  loiimio  1b 


1  "e^S£ 


uuBon  made  It  hia  text  iU 
wk,  and  be  aaid  llkeirii 
whichiahaifBtrutlilBi 
BblaekeBIotlieg. 
whicli  la  all  a  lie  miylMMt 
id  fought  with  outright, 
which  Is  part  n  troUi  b 
fighu 


I  to  Ibt 


eldest-bom,  Ibo 


And -Willy  bad  not 

fimnforai..><=~~i.^i«... 
And  all  tilings  look'd  half-dead, 

Jflunla.  to  Blander  me.  wbukiiowwasi 

.lemiieliadbeen  I 
But  solilnii  aiioiher.  A  iinie,  will 

make  one's  self  cleui. 

Andrrl<"l  mynelt  wellnlgh  Wind,  »a* 


TEE  GRANDMOTHER, 


207 


I  climb'd  to  tlie  top  of  the  gartli,  and 
stood  by  tlte  road  at  the  gate. 

Tbe  moon  like  a  rick  on  fire  was  rising 
over  the  dale. 

And  whit,  whit,  whit,  in  the  bush  beside 
me  chirrupt  the  nightingale. 

XI. 

All  of  a  sadden  he  stopt :  there  past 
by  the  gate  of  the  farm, 

Willy, — he  didn't  see  me,— and  Jenny 
hung  on  his  arm. 

Out  into  the  road  I  started,  and  spoke 
I  scarce  knew  how  ; 

Ah,  there's  no  fool  like  the  old  one- 
it  makes  me  angry  now. 

XII. 

Willy  stood  up  like  a  man,  and  look'd 

the  thing  that  he  meant  ; 
Jenny,  the  viper,  made  me  a  mocking 

courtesy,  and  went. 
And  I  said,  "  Let  us  part :  in  a  hundred 

years  it'll  be  all  the  same, 
You  cannot  love  me  at  all,  if  you  love 

not  my  good  name.'" 

XIII. 

And  he  tum*d,  and  I  saw  his  eyes  all 

wet,  in  the  sweet  moonshine  : 
*'  Sweetheart,  I  love  you  so  well  that 

your  good  name  is  mine. 
And  wliat  do  I  care  for  Jane,  let  her 

speak  of  you  well  or  ill ; 
But  many  me  out  of  hand :  we  too 

shall  be  happy  still." 

XIV. 

"Marry  you,  "Willy!"  said  I,  "but  I 

needs  must  speak  my  mind, 
And  I  fear  you'll  listen  to  tales,  be 

jealous  and  hard  and  unkind." 
Buthe  tuni'dand  clasptme  in  his  arms, 

and  answer'd,  "  No.  love,  no ; " 
Seventy  years  ago,  my  darling,  seventy 

years  ago. 

XV. 

So  WlllT  and  I  were  wedded  :  I  wore  a 

lilac  gown ; 
And  the  ringers  rang  with  a  will,  and 

he  gave  the  ringera  a  crown. 
But  the  first  that  ever  I  bare  was  dead 

before  he  was  born, 
Shadow  and  shine  is  life,  little  Annie, 

fiower  and  thorn. 

XVI. 

That  was  the  first  time,  too,  that  ever 

I  thought  of  death. 
There  lay  the  sweet  little  body  that 

never  had  drawn  a  breath. 
X  had  not  wept,  little  Annie,  not  since 

I  had  iNsen  a  wife  ; 
But  I  wept  like  a  child  that  dav,  for  the 

babe  had  fought  for  his  life 

xvn. 

His  dear  little  face  was  troubled,  as  if 
wiUi  anger  or  pain : 


I  look'd  at  the  still  little  body— hij 

trouble  had  all  been  in  vain. 
For  Willy  I  cannot  weep,  I  shall  see 

him  another  morn  : 
But  I  wept  like  a  child  for  the  child 

that  was  dead  before  he  was 

born. 

XVIII. 

Buthecheer'd  me,  my  good  man,foi 

he  seldom  said  me  nay  : 
Kind,  like  a  man,  was  he ;  like  a  man, 

too,  would  have  his  way  : 
Never  jealous— not  he  :  we  had  many  a 

happy  year ; 
And  he  died,  and  I  could  not  weep — 

uiy  own  time  seem'd  so  near. 

XIX. 

But  I  wish'd  it  had  been  God's  will  that 

I  too,  then  could  have  died  : 
I  began  to  be  tired  a  little,  and  fain 

had  slept  at  his  side. 
And  that  was  ten  years  back,  or  more, 

if  I  don't  forget  : 
But  OS  to  the  children,  Annie,  they're 

all  about  me  yet. 

XX. 

Pattering  over  the  boards,  my  Annio 

who  left  me  at  two, 
Patter  she  goes,  my  own  little  Annie, 

an  Annie  like  you  : 
Pattering  over  the  boards,  she  comes 

and  goes  at  her  will, 
While  Harry  is  in  the  five-acre  and 

Charlie  ploughing  the  hill. 

XXI. 

And  Harry  and  Charlie,  I  hear  them 
too— they  sing  to  their  team  : 

Often  they  come  to  the  door  in  a  pleas- 
ant kind  of  a  dream. 

They  come  and  sit  by  my  chair,  they 
hover  about  my  bed — 

I  am  not  always  certain  if  they  l^e  alive 
or  dead. 

XXII. 

And  yet  I  know  for  a  truth,  there's 

none  of  them  left  alive  ; 
For  Harry  went  at  sixty,  your  father 

at  sixty-five : 
And  Willy,  my  eldest-bom,  at  nigh 

threescore  and  ten ; 
I  knew  them  all  as  babies,  and  now 

they're  elderly  men. 

XXIII. 

For  mine  is  a  time  of  peace,  it  is  not 

often  I  grieve  ; 
I  am  of  tener  sitting  at  home  in  my  f&4 

ther's  farm  at  eve  : 
And  the  neighbors  come  and  laugh  and 

gossip,  and  so  do  I ; 
I  find  myself  often  laughing  at  things 

that  have  long  gone  by. 


xxrv. 

To  be  sure  the  preacher  sa' 
should  mB^Q>]A 


Qus  «ILba 


11^ 


NORTHERN  FARMER. 

iiUtneotpoHco,  Mil 
nuw  U  bo  liad  ; 


"a  Annie, 


IIBS  iroiii  jlBlll, 

Anil  baiw  liM  Ehoii  my  Itto; 
woulit  not  liiB  IC  HHOln. 


So  '^VIIIt  bu   BOiic,  my  txanty,  my 

nut  tiow  »»  I  weeii  for  'Wllly/he  has 
but  anna  fur  ui  hour. — 


^ 


KOttTUEIlN  FAllSIEU. 

'WniiB  'oBta  lieUn  Miw  long  and  m 

HH!t»"«ronlotiii? 
Koonw  V  niuort  now  t  o'  a  iiooree:  whc 

IXicWr'a  Bbuftii  ■»'  n)tnl(n  : 
Bo^  lliit  I  moliiiC  'a  now  luour  Ull< 

Gil  mkmy  oHle.  fot  I  beiint  b-qocIu' 
braUk  my  rule. 

nooton,  they  knans  nowt.  to 

tlilnga  ibm  n  do. 
I'vo'od  my  jKilnt  a'  aSlo  Itt; 

All'  I've  'wl  my  gunrt  iTiy 
uolgbt  for  foorly  year. 

P»n«n'a  ■  beKn  luUcewoiie.kn 

■ere  o'  my  bed. 
H  Tlia  ■mulglity')  n  laUdu  i 


r<Iaue  my  duty  by 'm,  oi  L 'a  douD  tiy 


Lora'd  ft  nuT  b^.  i 

MarriS'a  iMdrn 
'  B  knawi  1  La 


did, 'boot  Brsi 


An'  I  hallm  eoorond  to'a  clworch  itMt 

moy  Sally  wur  dead, 
Au'  'eBrdunabummlu'  awilyMlcfi 
_        iJUBmtd-olock  •  ower  my^eiul, 

An*  I  UioiytaHLld  wliotoinM'aiuZt 


1,  too,  »ball  go  111  a  mliiuto.'wliM  Umo 

Mowt 

"bii^ltX'!?"''''"*^™' 

bare  I  to  Im  voxt ; 

■Slver 

I  kep-m,  I  kep  'm,  my  UM,Ua 

luy  duty  by  'm  'us  I  -a  deB* 

Aud  %ni1y'i  mco  Lna   written,   abe 

by'tha  loud:          ■"  '    ""^ 

imrurwiu  otDi^nlae. 

Tbiinli  but  a  t:¥lle  left  you,  when  I 

DutP 

mon  n  comee  an-  a  inHK  an'  i 

»ayalteili.ya.i-rreeir^' 

BluUbavBpaataway. 

"ThB 

BiiiolBbty.  a  tallkiu  o"  yen  to 

Hut  atay  wl'b  Ihu  oli)  wumiui  nnn- ;  yuu 

'1b«*ii,  my  friend.-'  aaya  ■««. 
t  satty  men  be  loiani.  tfiaw  fm- 

uMUiut  liave  long  to  suiy. 

iimo  iiBld  it  in  -aiiBie  ; 

an'    I    'a    Btubb'd    Thunuby 
iva«ale. 

D'ya  molnd  the  wattnU,  my  Ian?  Ban, 

nan-,  tha  waa  not  bom  tb<il : 
Tbcor  wiir  a  Upggla  iu  U,  1  oCt«m  '♦«rt 

MoBallolkeabuttor-bomp,  t  ImI'mbI 

'Ul  aboDC  JLIl'  flltnnr. 

DutI 


rallied  ai 


ramblea'iuMU 


KeBper'B  It  wnr  i  fo'  they  ton  'm  lliwt 

a-loald  an  'la  fa» 
Doon  1' itio  volld  'enonilea  I  aftwr 

«inm«l  \o  theplaitw 

ibleby— loant 


TirnoNUS. 


209 


XT. 


l!Tob1rat  a  Mt  on  it  '8  left,  an*  I  roeMn'd 

to  'a  stubbed  it  at  fall, 
Done  it  ta-year  I  mefliiM,  an'  ruuu'd 

nlougli  thrufT  it  an**al), 
If  gooainolghty  an'  parson  'ud  nobbut 

let  ma  aloftn, 
>Ieil,    wi'   haate   oonderd    liaSere   o' 

Sqnoire'B,  an'  loud  o*  my  oaii. 

XII. 

Do  godaraoicbty  knaw  what  a  *8  doing 

a-taakin'  o'  mea  ? 
I  be&nt  wonn  ad  saw:*  *ere  a  beUn  an' 

yonder  a  pe^ ; 
An*  Squoire  *uU  be  sa  mad  on*  all— a' 

dear  a*  dear! 
Jknd  1  'a  managed  for  Squoire  come 

Micliaelmas  thutty  year. 

XIII. 

A  mcwt  *a  taKen  owd  JoSnes,  as  'ant 

nor  a  'aUpoth  o'  sense, 
Or  a  mowt  'a  taften  young  Robins— a 

niver  mended  a  fence  : 
But  godamoighty  a  moost  tafike  me^ 

an'  taitke  ma  now 
Wi'  'a&f  tbe  cows  to  cauve  an*  Thuma- 

by  hoalms  to  plougli  1 

XIV. 

Loook  *ovr  quoloty  smoiles  when  they 

seeHs  ma  a  passin'  by, 
8ay8  to  tbees^n  naw  doubt  **  what  a 

man  a  bett  sewer-ly  !  '* 
For  tbey  knaws  what  I  beHn  to  Squoire 

sin  fust  a  corned  to  the  'All ; 
I  done  my  duty  by  Squoire  an'  I  done 

my  duty  by  nalL 

XV. 

Sqaoire's  in  tAinnon,  an*  summun  I 

.  reckons 'uU 'a  to  wroite, 
For  -wholl  's  to  howd  the  lond  ater  meft 

thot  muddles  ma  quoit ; 
SarHn-sewer  I  befi,  thot  a  weilnt  niver 

give  it  to  Jo^nes, 
Kaw  nor  a  moiint  to  Robins— a  niver 

rembles  the  stoSns. 

XVI. 

But  snmmun  'nil  come  ater  meft  may 

hap  vri*  is  kittle  o'  steilm 
Huzadu'  an'  maiizin'  the  blessed  f  eillds 

-wi'  the  Divil's  o&i  te&m. 
If  I  mun  doy  I  mun  doy,  an'  loife  they 

says  ia  sweet, 
Bat  if  I  mun  doy  I  mun  doy,  for  I 

couldu  abettr  to  see  it. 

XVII. 

IHiat  atta  stannin'  theer  for,  an'  doesn 

bring  ma  the  'a&le  ? 
Doctor's  a  tottttler,  lass,  an  a 's  hallus  i' 

the  owd  tafile ; 
I  weiint  breftk  rules  for  Doctor,  a  knaws 

naw  moor  nor  a  floy  ; 
Git  ma  my  'a2(le  I  tell  thai  an'  if  I  mun 

doj  I  mun  doy. 


TITHONUS. 


The  woods  decay,  the  woods  decay  and 

fall. 
The  vapors  weep  their  burden  to  tlie 

ground, 
Man  comes  and  tills  the  field  and  lies 

beneatli. 
And  after  many  a  summer  dies  the 

swan. 
Me  only  cruel  immortality 
Consumes  :    I  wither  slowly  in  thine 

arms. 
Here  at  the  quiet  limit  of  the  world, 
A  white-hair'd  shadow  roaming  like  a 

dream 
The  ever  silent  spaces  of  the  East, 
Far-folded  mists,  and  gleaming  halls 

of  mom. 

Alas  1  for  this  gray  shadow,  once  « 

man — 
So  glorious  in    his  beauty   and  thy 

choice, 
Who  madest  him  thy  chosen,  that  he 

seem'd 
To  his  great  heart  none  other  than  a 

God! 
I  ask'd  thee,  "  Give  me  immortality." 
Then  did'st  thou  grant  mine  asking 

with  a  smile. 
Like  wealthy  men  who  care  not  how 

they  give. 
But  thy  stronff  Hours  indignant  work'd 

tneir  wills, 
And  beat  me  down  and  marr'd  and 

wasted  me. 
And  tlio'  they  could  not  end  me,  left 

me  maim'd 
To  dwell  in  presence  of  immortal  youth. 
Immortal  age  beside  immortal  youth, 
And  all  I  was,  in  ashes.    Can  thy  love, 
Thy  beauty,  make  amends,  tho'  even 

now, 
Close  over  us,  the  silver  star,  thy  guide^ 
Shines  in  those  tremulous  eyes  that  till 

with  tears 
To  hear  me  ?    Let  me  go :  take  back 

thy  gift : 
Why  should  a  man  dieslre  in  any  way 
To  vary  from  the  kindly  race  of  men. 
Or  pass  beyond  the  goal  of  ordinance 
Where  all  should  pause,  us  is  most 

meet  for  all  ? 

A  soft  air  fans    the  cloud  apart ; 

there  comes 
A  glimpse  of  that  dark  world  where  I 

was  born. 
Once  more  the  old  mysterious  glimmer 

steals 
From  thy  pure  brows,  and  f  i-om  thy 

shoulders  pure, 
And  bosom  beating  with  a  heart  re- 

new'd. 
Thy  cheek  begins  to  redden  thro'  the 

gloom. 
Thy  sweet  eyes  brighten  slowly  dose 

tomine% 


V 


TBE  VOYAGE. 


£re  7at  tbey  blind  tlie  Mai's,  utd  Uio 
■WhtoU  loTS  Ihee,  jeamlrg  lor  thy 


.t  Uie  iwlllglit  into  flnkea  of 


t>eparteel,  and  tliy  U 

■WTiTwllt  thnn  evei 
tl.y  tesra. 


In  dojB  lar- 


rameirlUi 


TliBdlmpnrl«hinillBlnlo«uim)'rinEi! 
CLuigeiL  with  thy  myiUc  chouge,  »»d 

iw  with  the  glow  that  slowly  crim- 

■onM  all 
T  praseuue  aucl  thy  portala,  whlls  I 

Month,    tnrehenil,    eyalUla,    growliig 

With  kisMB  biilnilii  tlian  haU-openiiig 

or  April,  ona  pould  hear  Iho  lips  thai 

WhliperinB  I  knew  not  what  of  wild 

e  that  lUaiigB  song  I  hentil  Apollo 
sine, 
■Wblla   Illoii  like   a  mlBt   roBO    into 


Yet  hold  B 


not  fnr 


;r  In  thhi 


Aie  aU  thy  lights, 

klcil  feet 
[Tpon  thy  pliiamerlng  throshrlils,  vihea 

Floats  up  from  Uioie  dim  Gekis  about 

bauiiy  ninu  that  have  tho  povor  to 

1  And  graiiy  burowB  of   the  happier 


Thon  teVn  nil  things,  Uion  wilt  «s 
Tlion  wilt  irmew  Uij  bfsnty  mor 
I  earth  In  eaith  forget  tliau  e: 

And    thee   retarnlnB  on    thy  i 

whsels. 

THE  VOYAGE. 


We  loft  betilnil  the 


pnlntcil  bnoy 


Dry  BMig  the  tackle,  rangthstaili 
Tl.e  fjuly-B-haul  upoji  Iho  prow 
caught  tlie  Bhrlfl  salt,  uhI  sbesr' 


Tho  brood  i 
We  fflit  thi 


)  goud  Dlilp  ihake  and 
'dto  sail  tutotne  Sun 

Itow  nft  WB  mw  the  Snn  retira. 

And  burn  the  tfareabold  otlliaBUIlL 
Fall  from  his  Ooodn-lano  ol  flra,  ^^ 

And  sleep  beneath  his  plllar-il  IMtl 
Ilijw  all  the  puiple-aklrted  niba 

lir  twilight  Blowly  downward  diaw* 
As  thro'  the  slomber  of  the  eloba 

Agulii  we  dasU'd  Into  the  oann  | 

New  Btan  all  night  aboTe  the  turbB 

(Jf  uBtere  ll|<hteu'd  Inla  view ; 
They  olimb'd  a«  quickly,  for  Uie  iIb 

Clianged  every  momuut  as  we  as*. 
Far  tan  the  naked  moon  Bcrou 

The  houseless  ocean's  Iwaviug  Held, 
Or  Hying  shone,  the  silver  boss 

Of  her  own  halo's  duakj'  shield; 


High  towua  oil  Mill  were  ^inilTMen, 
"Vi'ts  pHet  lung  lilies  of  Moilheru  fapvs 

We  coma  to  warmer  wavet,  and  d^it 
AerusB  the  bouiidleu  r«it  we  .IrovLV 
When 


By  peaks  that  tiamtit, 

Glonm'd  the  lew  vusat  and  qnlTerlnl 
With  luihy  rains,  that  ipreaiUui  madB 


REQUIESCAT, 


.    211 


Fantastic  plume  or  aable  pine ; 
By  sanda  aua  steaming  flats  and  floods, 

Of  mijzhty  month,  we  scudded  f ast. 
And  hills  and  scarlet-mingled  woods 

Glow'd  for  a  moment  as  wo  past. 

VII. 

O  hundred  shores  of  happy  climes. 

How  swiftly  stream'd  ye  by  the  bark ! 
At  times  the  whole  seaburn\l.at  times 

With  wakes  of  tire  we  tore  the  dark; 
At  times  a  carven  craft  would  shoot 

From  havens  hid  in  fairy  bowers, 
With  naked  limbs  and  flowers  andf  ruit. 

But  we  nor  paused  for  fruit  nor 
flowers. 

Tin. 

For  one  fair  Vision  ever  fled 

Down  the  waste  waters  day  and 
night. 
And  still  we  f ollow*d  where  she  led, 

In  hope  to  gain  upon  her  flight. 
Her  face  was  evermore  unseen, 

And  flxt  upon  the  far  sea-liue ; 
But  each   man  murmur'dy     **  O,  my 

Sueen. 
ow  till  I  make  thee  mine.*' 

IX. 

And  now  we  lost  her,  now  she  g1eam*d 

Like  Fancy  made  of  golden  air. 
ICow  nearer  to  the  prow  she  seem'd 

Like  Virtue  iirm,  like  Knowledge 
fair, 
Kow  high  on  waves  that  idly  burst 

Like  Heavenly  Hope  she   crown'd 
the  sea. 
And  now,  the  bloodless  point  reversed, 

She  bore  the  blade  of  Liberty. 

X. 

And  only  one  among  us— him 

We    pleased   not — he  was  seldom 
pleased : 
He  saw  not  far :  his  eyes  were  dim : 

But  ours  he  swore  were  all  diseased. 
**  A  ship  of  fools,"  he  shriek'd  in  gpite, 

**  A  ship  of  fools,*'  he  sueer'd  and 
wept. 
And  overboard  one  stormy  night 

He  ccst  his  body,  and  on  we  swept. 

xr. 

And  never  sail  of  ours  was  f  urVd, 

Nor  anchor  dropt  at  eve  or  morn  ; 
We  loved  the  glories  of  the  world, 

But  laws  ot  nature  were  our  scorn  ; 
For  blasts  would  rise  and  rave  and 
cease, 

But  whence  were  those  that  drove 
the  sail 
Across  the  whirlwind's  heart  of  peace. 

And  to  and  thro*  the  counter-gale  ? 

XII. 

Aniln  to  coldei  climes  we  came. 
For  still  we  followed  where  she  led : 

Aow  mate  is  blind  and  captain  lame. 
Aim!  halt  the  crew  are  sick  or  dead. 


But  blind  or  lame  or  sick  or  sound 
We  follow  that  which  flies  brforo  \ 

We  know  the  merry  world  is  round, 
And  we  may  sail  for  evermore. 


IX  THE  VALLEY  OP  CAUTERET2, 

All  along  the  valley,  stream  that  flashi- 
est white. 

Deepening  thy  voice  with  the  deepen- 
ing of  the  night. 

All  along  the  valley,  where  thy  waters 
flow, 

1  wolk'd  witli  one  I  loved  two  and  tliir* 
ty  years  ago. 

All  along  the  valley  while  I  walk'd  to 
day. 

The  two  antl  thirty  years  were  a  mist 
that  rolls  uway  ; 

For  all  along  the  valley,  down  thy 
rocky  bed 

Thy  living  voice  to  me  was  as  the  voice 
of  the  dead. 

And  all  along  the  valley,  by  rock  and 
cave  and  tree, 

The  voice  of  the  dead  was  a  living 
voice  to  me. 


THE  FLOWER. 

OxcE  in  a  golden  hour 

I  cast  to  earth  a  seed. 
Up  there  came  a  flower. 

The  people  said,  a  weed. 

To  and  fro  they  went 
Thro*  my  garden-bower, 

And  muttering  discontent 
Cursed  me  and  my  flower. 

Then  it  grew  so  tall 
it  wore  a  crown  of  light, 

But  thieves  from  o'er  the  wall» 
Stole  the  seed  by  night. 

Sow'd  it  far  and  wide 
By  every  town  and  tower, 

Till  all  the  people  cried, 
'*  Splendid  is  the  flower." 

Read  my  little  fable : 
He  that  runs  may  read. 

Most  can  raise  the  flowers  now. 
For  all  have  got  the  seed. 

And  some  are  pretty  enough^ 
And  some  are  poor  iiide^ 

And  now  again  the  people 
Call  it  but  a  weed. 


REQUIESCAT. 

Fair  is  her  cottage  in  its  place* 
Where  yon  broad  water  sweetly  slowi 
\j  glides. 

It  sees  itself  from  thatch  to  base 
Dream  iu  the  slidiug  tides. 


THE  niNGLET. 


I  llfu  Uii.  hnur 


THE  SAILOR  BOT. 

no  nt  ilRwn  anil,  flrsil  witli  hope, 
,  o'vr  Uiu  aeuililiii  hnclxir-bnc, 
euh'd  lbs  Btilii  ami  caoglit  tUe 

Anil  wli&tlBd  to  th«  maming  itftr. 
I    Ami  wbllo  bs  vUlellul  long  nn<l  louil 

Ha  lni«rd  a  (larce  uionniildeii  cry, 
'    "Obiiy,  llio'Uiou»rtyoungBiid|miuil. 

1  ago  tUe  pUwa  wliBro  Uiuu  wilt  lia. 
p  Tho  aBii4»  BiHl  yoiut*  •arBOa  mil 


_       jn  lliv  i-iba  the  Umppt  atii 
TaiiJ  in  tliy  lie»rt  Oib  aorawU  «ljal 

1       pi»y" 

W  Pool,"  ba  anawBred,  "  death  \»  Biire 
V  .To  thnae  tba(  stay  anik  llioaa  Iha 

It  Willi  uuiply  liauJi  at  Lomo- 
"  M  V  innllur  cllnBB  aliout  my  neck. 
My  elatara  cryliij  ■  SUiy  lur  Bhnnia  ; 

''rUi'V  lira  nil  lolilaiiiB.UitynrBiUl  li 
fc*  OBill'rC«"J^^y  ^™rt^  ^^'^^  ,, 

THE  ISLET. 
t'  Wnirritn.  O  wUlther,  lovo,  aluill  wi 


a  5!a'«(n) 


at  fullowisl  Ilia  day  the 
'wUlher,  love,  sLall  ve 


!BT  ihaklni  hla  ci 


Rut  n  bcry  of  Kroaea  arpl<-<^he?l['cl> 
III  a  ahaltop  oE  tvit\a.\  ivory-llBHk'il, 
VWh  B  aalin  aail  of  a  rnby  eIow, 
I'd  a  awcet  llCUa  Eduu  ou  eurtli  that  I 

kiiov. 
A  momiuin  lalct  polrleil  ami  pealtM  ; 
'WaTDs  on  a  dlamnnil  ablneledKali. 
Calamcl  broolca  lo  the  orenn  ruu, 
pntrlly-delicata  palacea  eliliie 

Aaii  oientream'd  auil  ^lieTt'«tteak'd 


With  many  a  rivtilct  high  aertnattlw 

The  fa"eta  ot  the  sloiiana  DHuat^n 

Hash 
Almve  LliH  valleys  of  palm  and  plae.' 
"Tliithor.  O  lUiher,  Idie,  lettugo.' 
"No,  no,  ne! 

F'lt  In  all  that  exnulidte  lile,  tny  Hear, 
lliera  !»  but  one  binl  wiih  a  mudcal 

And  hla  coiupasa  ia  but  one  nt  a  alngl* 
That  II  makea  one  weary  lo  hear," 

k  me  not !  IotcIm 


'  Alock  me  nol 

■N-o,  loTB,  no. 
rue  llie  bud  ei 


Awl  a  Biorm  never  wakes  In  thu  lonalr 

And  a  worm  is  therein  ilielonely  wood. 
That  piocces  the  liver  ami  blnckeua  tlil 

And  lookea  it  a  EOrrow  to  be." 


THE  RDiGLET. 

"  Tnrn  iInB!ot»,Tnnr  ringlelii. 

It  v™  ivui  e'vB^me*o";r^ut  one. 

Toklaallnlahtaiiilday. 
Then  iieTflrclillliiig  touch  oITIms 

Will  tutu  It  Bllver-gmy; 
Aiul  thru  ahall  1  know  it  Is  all  tma 

gold 
To  Dunie  and  spatklo  mid  stream  is  o' 

Till  nil  tlie  coniela  In  heaven  are  eaU, 

"Tlien  take  It,  love,  Bmf  put 
Ilila  ciuiuut  diBuge, 


ml  put  II  to  j^ 

Z. 

"MyiinBlB'-  my  ringlet. 

That  art  ao  Boldeii-Eay, 
Kow  never  ihllllnH  touiih  o[  Tline 

(jan  turn  llieo  allver-gmy  ; 
Aud  a  ltd  may  nluk,  aiuI  a  gitl  nU 
hint. 

And  a  tuol  may  any  IiU  say ; 
For  niy  doubiaaiid  leara  were  kUwuIbk 
AihI  I  awear  heuc-elurlli  by  Uiii  ■'■I 

this, 
That  a  doubt  will  only  rome  for  B  Uh 

"  I1ien  kisa  It,  love,  and  tiul  ItW : 
U  thla  vau  change,  why  ao  uiu  W' 

Oninilet.O  Kinglet, 
1  klaa'd  vou  ntebt  and  day. 

And  KIliBlel.O  Kinglet. 
YouBUll  are  golden-gBT, 

But  Ringlet,  Oltinglot. 
Vou  should  be  BllTer-grsy : 

For  what  ia  Ihli  which  now  Fm  to4 


EXPERIMENTS. 


21? 


I  that  took  you  for  true  gold» 
She  Uiat  gave  you's  bought  and  sold. 
Sold,  sold. 

2. 

O  Kinglet,  O  Kinglet 

She  Dlu8li*d  a  rosy  red. 
When  Kinglet,  O  Kinglet, 

She  clipt  you  from  her  head. 
And  Kinglet,  O  Kinglet, 

She  gave  you  me,  and  said, 
"  Come  kiss  it,  love,  and  put  it  by : 
If  this  can  dumge,  whv  so  can  1." 
O  lie,  you  golden  nothing,  fie 
You  golden  lie. 

3. 

O  Kinglet,  O  Kinglet, 
I  count  you  much  to  blame. 

For  lUnglet,  O  Kinelet, 
You  put  me  much  to  shame. 

So  Kinglet,  O  Kinglet, 
I  doom  you  to  the  flame. 

For  what  is  this  which  now  I  learn, 

Has  given  all  my  faith  a  turn  ? 

Bum,  you  glossy  heretic,  burn, 
Bum,  bum. 


A  WELCOME  TO  ALEXANDRA. 

March  T,  1863. 

8EA-KiKGS*daughter  f  rom  over  the  sea. 

Alexandra ! 
Saxon  and  Norman  and  Dane  are  we. 
But  all  of  us  Danes  in  our  welcome  of 

thee, 

Alexandra ! 
Welcome  her,  thunders  of  fort  and  of 

fleet! 
Welcome  her,  thundering  cheer  of  the 

street ! 
Welcome  her,  all  things  youthful  and 

sweet. 
Scatter  the  blossom  under  her  feet ! 
Brealc,  happy  land,  into  earlier  flowers! 
Make  music, O  bird,  in  the  new-budded 

bowers ! 
Blazon  your  mottoes  of  blessing  and 

prayer ! 
Welcome  her,  welcome  her,  all  that  is 

ours ! 
Warble,  O  bugle,  and  trumpet,  blare  ! 
Flags,  flutter  out  upon  turrets  and  tow- 
ers ! 
Flames,  on  the  windy  headland  flare ! 
Titter  your  jubilee,  steeple  and  spire ! 
Clash,  ve  bells,  in  the  merry  March 

air! 
Fla8h,ye  cities,  in  rivers  of  fire ! 
Kush  to  the  roof,  sudden  rocket,  and 

higher 
Melt  into  stars  for  the  land's  desire  I 
R<»11  and  rejoice,  jubilant  voice, 
Boll  as  a  {rround-swell  dash*d  on  the 

strand. 
Boar  as  the  sea  when  he  welcomes  the 

land, 


And  welcome  her,  welcome  the  land*8 

desire, 
The  sea-king*s  daughter  as  happy  as 

fair, 
Blissful  bride  of  a  blissful  heir. 
Bride  of  the  heir  of  the  kings  of  the 

sea,— 
O  joy  to  the  people,  and  joy  to  the 

throne. 
Come  to  us,  love  us  and  make  us  your 

own : 
For  Saxon  or  Dane  or  Norman  we. 
Teuton  or  Celt,  or  whatever  we  be. 
We  are  each  idl  Dane  in  our  welcome 

of  thee, 

Alexandra! 


DEDICATION 

Dear,  near  and  true— no  truer  Time 

nimself 
Can  prove  you,  tho*  he  make  you  ever- 
more 
Dearer  and  nearer,  as  the  rapid  of  life 
Shoots  to  the  Call— take  this,  and  pray 

that  he, 
Who  wrote  it,honorlng  your  sweet  faith 

in  hlQi, 
May  trust  himself  ;  and  spite  of  praise 

and  scorn. 
As  one  who  feels  the  immeasurable 

world, 
Attain  the  wise  indifference  of  the  wise; 
And  after  Autumn  past  — if  left  to 

pass 
His    autumn    into     seeming-leafless 

days  — 
Draw  toward  the  long  frost  and  longest 

night. 
Wearing  his  wisdom  lightly,  like  tho 

fruit 
Which  in  our  winter  woodland  looks  a 

flower.* 


EXPERIMENTS. 

BOADICEA. 

WnTLE  about  the  shore  of  Mona  those 

Neronian  legionaries 
Burnt  and  broke  tne  grove  and  altar  of 

the  Druii  and  Druidess, 
Far  in  the  East  BolUiicto,  standing 

loftily  charioted. 
Mad  and  maddening  all  that  heard  her 

in  her  fierce  volubility. 
Girt  bv  half  the  tribes  of  Britain,  near 

the  colony  C^muloddne, 
Yeird  and  shriek'd  between  her  daugh* 

ters  o'er  a  wild  confederacy. 

"  They  that  scorn  the  tribes  and  call 
us  Britain's  barbarous  populaces. 

Did  they  hear  me,  would  they  listen, 
did  they  pity  me  supplicatina;? 

Shall  I  heed  them  in  their  anguish? 
shall  I  brook  to  be  supplicated  ? 

•  The  fruit  of  the  SpinOIe-tree  iEvontfmm 
EuropatMM.) 


f- 


en  KU  foe  wbo  rnmiW  mA  told 

(tU. 
I«ilieir  pncio 

Blullweteadlii 


iMDiliCal? 


Kly  robed  In  Bjine  ruio^Dt,  i 
UiB  terrible  propbeteues. 

■r  uol,  UlH  uf  blowing  woodland, 
IsluuCallvery  |»rB]i«Iiil 


Ibet*  tbey  drank  in  cups  of  «nKnIil, 
tl«n  at  tabliis  of  ebouj  Iw, 

BaOiiiz  Du   tbeir  purple  ommLbi 
their  tender  rllemiumcr. 

Bant  tbe  eaU*.  and  bom  Ihs  [HtlKai 
bretx  tbe  works  of   ilie  i 

Take  ibe  hMFV  Roman  heail  and  ibit- 

let  it,  hold  IC  Kboiimiable. 
Cat  tbe  Konnn  boy  to  plei:uiLuldilDlt 

Laah  Ibe  nilwlen  into  nioonlng,  M 

I  Ike  tuolti.. 

•t  Ou  UtUuou 


11  \nx  ind  be  aliall  dwindle, 


lii4  liauit  lo  ba  cttlabmun 


mndiBliin 

roll  I  HE  ElanuGB  Ho 
Yell'd  uxid  eb  Bak'  il  b«t» 
usis  iu  bsr  flBrcu  i 


SPECIMEN  OF  A  TRANSLATION  OF  THE  ILIAD.   2\h 


Till  her  people  all  around  the  royal 
chariot  agitated. 

Madly  dash'd  the  darts  together,  writh- 
ing barbarous  liueiinieuts, 

Made  the  noise  of  frosty  wo<Ml1and8, 
when  they  shiver  in  Jauuai-y, 

Roar'd  as  when  the  rolling  breakers 
boom  and  blanch  ou  the  preci- 
pices, 

Yell'ct  as  wiien  the  winds  of  winter  tear 
an  oak  on  a  promontory. 

So  the  silent  colony  hearing  her  tumul- 
tuous adversaries 

Clash  the  darts  and  on  the  buckler  beat 
with  rapid  unanimous  hand, 

Thoueht  on  all  her  evil  tyrannies,  all 
ner  pitiless  avarice. 

Till  she  felt  the  heart  within  her  fall 
and  flutter  tremulously, 

Then  her  pulses  at  the  clamoring  of  her 
enemy  fainted  away. 

Out  of  evil  evil  flourishes,  out  of  tyr- 
anny tyrannv  buds. 

San  the  land  with  Koman  slaughter, 
multitudinous  agonies. 

Perish'd  many  a  maid  and  matron, 
many  a  valorous  legionary. 

7ell  the  colony,  city,  and  citadel,  Lon- 
don, Yerulam,  C^mulodiiue. 


IX  QUANTITY. 

MILTOX. 

Alcaics, 

O  MTOHTT-MOUTH'D  iuvcntor  of  har- 
monies, 
O  skiird  to  sing  of  Time  or  Eternity, 
God-gifted  organ-voice  of  England, 
Milton,  a  name  to  resound  for  ages ; 
Whose  Titan  angels,  Gabriel,  Abdiel, 
StarrM  from  Jehovah's  gorgeous  armo- 
ries, 
Tower,  as  the  deep-domed  empyrean 
Kings  to  the  roar  of  an  angel  onset — 
Me  ratlier  all  that  bowery  loneliness, 
Hie  brooks  of  Eden  mazilv  murmuring. 
And  bloom  profuse  and  cedar  arches 
Charm,  as  a  wanderer  out  in  ocean. 
Where  some  refulgent  sunset  of  India 
Streams  o*er  a  rich  ambrosial  ocean  isle, 
And  crimson-hucd  the  stately  palm- 
wooils 
Whisper  in  odorous  heights  of  even. 

Jlendecasyllahics, 

O  Tou  chorus  of  indolent  reviewers. 
Irresponsible,  indolent  revieweis, 
Ixx^,  I  come  to  the  test,  a  tiny  poem 
Ail  i*oniposed  in  a  metre  of  CatulUisi, 
All  lu  quantity,  careful  of  my  motion. 
Like  the  skdter  ou  ice  that  hardly  bears 

him. 
Lest  1  fall  unawares  before  the  people. 
Waking  laughter  in  indolent  re  viuwcrs. 
Should  1  flounder  awhile  without  a 

tumble 
Thro'  this  metriflcation  of  Catullus, 
They  should  speak  to  mc  not  without  a 

welcome. 


All  that  chorus  of  indolent  reviewers. 

Hard,  hard,  hard  is  it,  only  not  to  tum- 
ble, 

So  fantastical  is  the  dadnty  metre. 

Wherefore  slight  me  not  wholly,  nor 
believe  me 

Too  presumptuous,  indolent  reviewers. 

O blatant  Magazines,  regard  me  rather— 

Since  I  blush  to  belaud  myself  a  mo- 
ment— 

As  some  rare  little  rose,  a  piece  of  in- 
most 

Horticultural  art,  or  half  coquette-like 

Maiden  not  to  be  greeted  unbenignly. 


SPECIMEN  OF  A  TRANSLATION 
OF  THE  ILIAD  IN  BLANK 
VERSE. 

So  Hector  said,  and  sea-like  roar*d  his 

host ; 
Then  loosed  their  sweating  horses  from 

the  yoke. 
And  each  beside  his  chariot  bound  his 


And  oxen  from  the  city,  and  goodly 

sheep 
In  haste  they  drove,  and  honey-hearted 

wine 
And  bread  from  out  the  houses  brought, 

and  heap'd 
Their  firewood,  and  tlie  winds  from  off 

the  plain 
Roll'd  the  rich  vapor  far  into  the  hea- 
ven. 
And  these  all  night  upon  the  bridge  •  of 

war 
Sat  glorying  ;  many  a  fire  before  them 

blazed : 
As  when  in  heaven  the  stars  about  tho 

moon 
Look  beautiful  when  all  the  winds  are 

laid. 
And  every  height  comes  out,  and  jut- 
ting peak 
And  valley,  and   the   immeasurable 

heavens 
Break  open  to  their  highest,  and  all  the 

stars 
Shine,  and  the  Shepherd  gladdens  in 

his  heart : 
So  many  a  fire  between  the  ships  and 

stream 
Of  Xanthus  blazed  before  the  towers  of 

Troy, 
A  thousand  ou  the  plain ;  and  close  by 

each 
Sat  fifty  in  the  blazo  of  burning  fire  ; 
And  champing  golden  grain,  the  horses 

stood 
Hard  by  their  chariots,  waiting  for  the 

dawn,  i^ 

//iaci  VIII.  542 -6C1. 

•  Or,  ridge. 

1  Or  more  literally,-- 

And  eatini;  hoary  grain  and  pulvc  the 

steed* 
StocKl  by  theic  cm»»  •w«\\.\tv\;  W\«  ^}^T<:m.«\ 
morn. 


THE  ricTin. 


Have  ie  aught  iliai  is  wDrr 


noujili  (or  deploring, 

Ituc  uiBliC  thai   is  worlh  Ihc 

BB  HI  my  feet  were  flowitiE. 
BvesontliosliliiHla  tioui'Iiig, 
Old  Year  loarliie  and  blow! 


The  geiitlalieHrt,  I 

That  itinde  you  onca  bo  denr  In  mf 
Yonr  voke  la  atllt  uaweet  ag  lUcii, 

Yoor  face  is  ntill  u  pnre  tuid  nm 
I  see  the  graces  or  niy  love 

All  rlpviieJ  In  lier  woiDsnliond. 


If  so 


I'Bar^ot 


Butli 
ThoiiB 


All  1  LRcJy  Clam  Vero  lie  Vere, 
W«  sit  togBtlier  now  aa  then  i 
J  ijruBBjourhiiiid.yimiiiHKtniyelauoe, 
__\ye«Bema.l(_we'loTe,IugHin. 

poasemea  uuv  tiuuls 
vi  V  iio  DUb  BimuLAtfi  tu-dny. 
BliicB  lait  we  met  inj  Lady  Veie, 
You've  growii  In  yearn  and  culture 

k&iM,  imtting  chlldlBb  thlnga  away, 
Saiighl  irariiis  [or  a  single 


TuaddBuolhomwiiBUH 
Xbe  tiead-iolt  of  the 
Bhilti. 

VhatJ^IttUBlibeari 


Von  did  but  leelc  to  vlills  awny 
The  slow  lionra  of  an  Ull«  iiiwht 

The  faul  t  lay  wl*  llis  fool  »iio  ft 
To  read  your  cluuacler  uri}jhi. 

Bnt,  Lady  Clara  Vera  de  Vere, 
You   maka  your  wsrea  hy  fa 

Tour  uM°?^[n«  all  a>  fHU  Hint  k 
Within  tlie  limit  of  iU  ■weeva- 

You  lit  bealde  me  here  lo-dHy, 
You  try  to  make  ma  lose  uam 

But  I  im  Mfe  the  nidle  I  (htiik 


V,  Clar. 

rvuf  Ilieeauiiierfeit, 

»lth  yeandiig  hnelt  ui 

^ImesliiikMwjilitbli 

Iduhaiigeyoumeatlii 

:rue  love  for  everinof 


A  ulaytliingfr 
A II  aw  world 


Bring  Rll   J 
Shoot  nil  your   darM,  Uiey  numol 


THE  YICTtM. 

A  FLAnrE  upon  Uin  neonle  fell. 

A  famine  aftvr  luid  theni  low, 
Then  Uiorue  oiid  byre  arose  In  fits, 

For  oil  them  brake  ibe  sudden  1 


What  would  yi 


Were  it  our  dea 


ly  lireak  ? 


ivhlten'd  al)  ilia  rolling  flood  \ 
Bilmeulay  all  ovur  Ilia  way. 
wii  iu  a  furrow  ■.aUied  with 

^rer  and  ays   tlie   priui 

!tlucituaui-d  tb&ttuti 

"The  Klneisliappy 


Tlie  Prlpa 


LUCRETIUS, 


217 


She  caRt  lier  armt  nbont  tlie  child. 
riie  child  was  only  eight  Buniinen  o]d> 
ilia  beauty  still  with  his  years  in- 
creased, 
ffla  face  was  ruddy,  his  hair  was  gold. 
He  eeem'd  a  Tictim  due  to  the  priest. 
The  Priest  beheld  him, 
And  cried  witli  Joy. 
**  The  Gods  have  answered : 
We  give  them  the  boy,'* 

VI. 

Tlie  Kingroturnod'd  from  out  the  wild, 

He  bore  but  little  same  in  hand  ; 
The  uiotber  said  **They  have  talcen 
tlie  child 
To  spill  his  blood  and  heal  the  land ; 
The  land  is  sick,  the  people  diseased, 
And  blight  and  famine  on  all  the  lea; 
The  holy  Uods,  they  must  be  appeased, 
So  I  pray  you  tell  the  truth  to  me. 
Tlipy  have  taken  our  sou, 
Tuey  will  Imve  his  life. 
Is  Ae  your  dearest? 
Orl,  the  wife?" 

V. 

The  King  bent  low,  wiUi  hand  on  brow, 
He  stay'd  his  arms  upon  his  knee : 

**U  wife,  what  use  to  answer  now? 
For  ttow  the  Priest  has  judged  for 


,» 


mc. 

The  King  was  shaken  witli  holy  fear : 
**  The  Gods,"  he  said,  **  would  have 
chosen  well ; 

Tet  both  are  near,  and  both  are  dear. 
And  which  the  dearest  1   cannot 
tell » " 
But  the  Priest  was  happy, 
His  victim  won  : 
**  We  have  his  dearest, 
His  ouly  sou !  '* 

VI. 

The  rites  prepared,  the  victim  bared, 
The  hnlfe  uprising  toward  the  blow, 

To  the  altar-stone  she  sprang  alone, 
•*  Me,  not  my  darling,  no  !  " 

He  caught  her  away  with  a  sudden  cry; 
Suddenly  from  him  brake  his  wife, 

Aud  shrieking  '*  /  am  his  dearest,  1  — 

1  am  his  dearest  ! "  rush*d  ou  the 
Knife. 

A  nd  the  Priest  was  happy, 
••  O,  Father  Odin, 
We  give  you  a  life. 
Which  was  his  nearest  ?  ] 
Who  was  his  dearest  ? 
TIte  Gods  have  answer*d  ; 
We  give  them  the  wife  !  *' 


LUCRETIUS. 

LDCII.IA,  wedded  to  I^ucretius,  found 
Her  master  cold ;  for  when  the  morn- 
ing flush 
Of  pMsion  and  the  first  embrace  had 
died 


Between  them,  tho'  he  loved  her  none 

the  les.s, 
Yet  often  when  the  woman  heard  his 

foot 
Keturn  from  pacings  in  the  field,  and 

ran 
To  greet  him  with  a  kiss,  the  master 

took 
Small   notice,  or    austerely,  for— his 

mind 
Half  buried  in  some  weightier  agru- 

nicnt, 
Or  fancy-borne  perhaps  upon  the  rise 
Aud  long  roll  of  tho  Hexameter— he 

past 
To  turn  and  ponder  those  three  hun- 
dred scrolls 
Left  by  the  Teacher  whom  he  held 

divine. 
She  brook 'd  it  not ;  but  wrathful,  pet- 
ulant 
Dreaming  some  rival,  sought  and  found 

a  witch 
Who  brew'd  the    philtre  which  had 

IK)wer,  they  said, 
To  lead  an  errant  passion  home  again. 
And  this,  at  times,  she  mingled  with 

his  drink, 
And  this  destroy'd  him;  for  the  wicked 

broth 
Confused  the  chemic  labor  of  the  Mood, 
And  tickling  the  brute  brain  withiu 

the  man's 
Made  havoc  among  those  tender  cellar 

and  check 'd 
His  power  to  shape  :  he  loathed  him* 

self  ;  an<l  once 
After  a  tempest  woke  upon  a  mom 
That  niock*d  him  with  returning  calm, 

aiuy[||ed  ; 

**  Storm  in  the  night !  for  thrice  I 
heard  the  rain 
Rushing  :  and  once  tho  flash  of  a  thun- 
derbolt— 
Methought  I  never  saw  so  fierce  a  fork- 
Struck  out  the  streaming  mouuiaiu* 

side,  and  show'd 
A  riotous  confluence  of  watercourses 
Blanching  and  billowing  in  a  hollow 

of  it. 
Where  all  but  yester-eve  was  dusty-dry. 

"  Storm,  and  what  dreams,  ye  holy 
Gods,  what  dreams  ! 

For  thrice  1  waken'd  after  dreams. 
Perchance 

We  do  but  recollect  the  dreams  that 
come 

Just  ere  the  waking  :  terrible  !  for  it 
seem'd 

A  void  was  made  In  Nature  ;  all  her 
bonds 

Crack'd  ;  and  I  saw  the  flaring  atom- 
streams 

And  torrents  of  her  myriad  universe. 

Ruining  along  the  illiniitHble  inane, 

Fly  on  to  clash  together  again,  and 
make 

Another  aud  aT\o\h«i  tTtovi^  ol>2^iQ:ej^ 


■■Mi^p^*^ 


LUCRETIUS. 


For  CT«  :  Itiot  ^"^  nin»,  tny  (bram,  I 
luiair  il— 

VUli  Innrd  Telp  sod  reatlto*  lontoot 

Bii  fnnclioB  of  the  woodluiJ :  but  tlie 

I  ihonstii  Itist  ikll  tbe  lilond  b;  5 jlla 

Came  driving  rainlike  down  again  on 

And  mtivri  tt  dadiM  lbs   nddening 
meadow,  »prang 

For  tboe  1  thought  m;  dream  voal J 
io 

Tbenmlbenr-Iaeea  DicUIor'i  orgies 

Than  angbt  tbc;  Iibls  of  tbe  qaiet 

GoJs. 
Aiut  bandfi  thry  mlxt,  and  jvll'd  and 

In  innToniiig  rirclcs  till  1  jrll'd  agnin 
IlAlf-snrroeated,  and  iiiESng  up,  bdiI 

TVai  it  the  Scat  beam  of  my  lateat  day? 

"  Tlien,  tbei>,from  utter  gloom  Btood 

id  Loreiingl; 

now  direct. 


Thebmutiof 

SovoTeralid 


At  all  that  beonty  ;  and  s 

The  fire  tSial  left  a  roofl-S 
Sliot  out  of  tbem,  uiU  iseod 


Forgetful    how   my   lidi    pioceniion 

Thj-  glory  fly  BlonEthcIuliaii  llelil. 
Inlay"  lliat  will  oaaust  thy  Deity  ? 

"  J>eity  ?  nay,  thy  woFBhipperB,    My 

Trip«,orl»peakprofanely.    Whlchof 

Koc  \(  Oina  be'et  of  lliose  n-bo,  far 
Flom  envy,  hate  and  pi;y,  nnrl  ipilo 
I.Wo  0\e  great  Ike  ittilcli  all  oargrcat- 
Woald  follow,  centred  in  eternal  ealm. 


Tonch,  and  be  toucli'd,  llian  ininUI 

cry  lo  Oiee 
To  kin  tliy  MttTore,  roll  tby  leiKlal 

Round  Wm^ajid^keep  him  froin  Uia 

ug    BlBOghWl- 


Wbom  all  Ibe  pines  of  Ida  ahoul 

Slide  from  that  quiet  taeaTen  of  1 

Tlie  Tro]an,  while  bis  neat-berd>  i 

Kar  ber  (bat  o'er  her  wounded  lin 
vepl 


Deity  false    in  human-araarau 

nhoni  lier  beardieu  apple-nrbllir 
ded  taireat.    Kalher,  iSjB  tiodl, 
-like,  as  tbe  erest  Siriiran  called 
OBB  Io  irraee  bis  golden  vertB- 
Kyprls  also— did  I  uks 


Tbe  Bll-generaUng  powers  and  gsnltl 

Of  Nature,  wbon  alio  strikes  tbro'  111! 

lliick  blood 
0(  cattle,  and  Ugbt  ia  large,  and  lint* 

>-aaiDg  tbe  motlier's  udder,  aiidUiii 

Makes  bis  heart  voice  amid  tbe  blm 


Unlliiisli'd  — if  I  go.    Hifl  (ioda,  bM 

The  lueid  interspace   of   world  ml 
world,  "^ 

a  wiuil, 
Kor  ever  falli  Ibe  least  Hhlts  atar  A 

Nur  sound  ol  buman  sorrow  manuttx 
Their  laered   eTerlaatlns  calm  t  aiii 


Is  Ihere  are,  for  all  mn 
footataps  Intolila.  and  m 


LUCRETIUS. 


219 


Of  flowery  clauses  onward  to  the  proof 
That  Gods  there  are,  and  deathless. 

Meant  ?  I  meant  ? 
I  hare  forgotten  what  I  meant :  my 

mind 
Stumbles,  and  all  my  faculties  are 

lamed. 

"  Look  where  another  of  our  Qods, 

the  Sun, 
Apollo.  Delius,  or  of  older  use 
An-seeing  Hyperion— what  you  will — 
Has  mounted  yonder  ;  since  he  never 

sware. 
Except  his  wrath  were  wreak*d    on 

wreiched  man, 
That  he  would  only  shine  among  the 

dead 
Hereafter ;  tales  !  for  never  yet  on 

earth 
Could  dead  flesh    creep,  or   bits  of 

roasting  ox 
Moan  round  the  spit— nor  knows  he 

what  he  sees  ; 
King  of  the  East  altho*  he  seem,  and 

girt 
With  song  and  flame  and  fragrance, 

slowly  lifts 
His  golden  feet  on  those  empurpled 

stairs 
That  climb  into  the  windy  halls  of 

heaven  : 
And  here  he  glances  on  an  eye  new- 
bom, 
And  gets  for  greeting  but  a  wail  of 

pain  ; 
And  here  he  stays  upon  a  freezing  orb 
That  fain  would  gaze  upon  him  to  the 

last ; 
And  here  upon  a  yellow  eyelid  fall'n 
And  closed  by  those  who  mourn  a 

friend  in  vain, 
Kot  thankful  that  his  troubles  are  no 

more. 
And  me,  altho'  his  fire  is  on  my  face 
Blinding,  he  sees  not,  nor  at  all  can  tell 
Whether  I  mean  this  day  to  end  myself. 
Or  lend  an  ear  to  Plato  where  he  says. 
That  men  like  soldiers  may  not  quit 

the  post 
Allotted  Dy  the  Gods  :  but  he   that 

holds 
The  Gods  are  careless,  wherefore  need 

he  care 
Greatly  for  them,  nor  rather  plunge  at 

once, 
B^ng  troubled,  wholly  out  of  sight, 

and  sink 
Past    earthquake— ay,  and  gout  and 

stone,  that  break 
Body  toward  death,  and  palsy,  death- 

in-Ufe, 
And  wretched  age— and  worst  disease 

of  all. 
These  prodiffles  of  myriad  nakednesses, 
And  twisted  shapes  of  lust,  unspeak- 
able, 
Abominable,  strangers  at  mv  hearth 
Mot  welcome,  harpies  minng  every 


The  phantom  husks  of  something 
foully  done, 

And  fleeting  thro'  th<$  boundless  uni- 
verse, 

And  blasting  the  long  quiet  of  my 
.  breast 

With  animal  heat  and  dire  insanity  ?* 

'*  How  should  the  mind,  except  it 
loved  them,  clasp 
These  idols  to  herself  ?  or  do  they  fly 
Now  thinner,  and  now  thicker,  like  the 

flakes 
In  a  fall  of  snow,  and  so  prees  in,  per- 
force 
Of  multitude,  as  crowds  that  in  an 

hour 
Of  civic  tumult  jam  the  doors,  and  bear 
The  keepei-8  down,  and  throng,  their 

rags  and  they. 
The  basest,  far  into  tliat  conncil-hall 
Where  sit  the  best  and  stateliest  of  the 
land  ? 

"  Can  I  not  fling  this  horror  off  mo 
again, 

Seeing  with  how  great  ease  Mature  can  . 
smile. 

Balmier  and  nobler  from  her  bath  of 
storm, 

At  random  ravage  ?  and  how  easily 

The  mountain  there  has  cast  his  cloudy 
slough, 

Kow  towering  o'er  him  in  serenest  air. 

A  mountain  o*er  a  mountain,— ay,  and 
within 

All  hollow  as  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
men? 
<*  But  who  was  he,  that  in  the  garden 
snared 

Picus  and  Faunus,  rustic  Gods  ?  a  talo 

To  laugh  at — more  to  laugh  at  in  my- 
self— 

For  look  !  what  is  it  ?  there  ?  yon 
arbutus 

Totters  ;  a  noiseless  riot  underneath 

Strikes  through  the  wood,  sets  all  the 
tops  quivering- 

The  mountain  quickens  Into  Nymph 
and  Faun ; 

And  here  an  Oread— how  the  sun  de- 
lights 

To  glance  and  shift  about  her  slippery 
sides, 

And  rosy  knees  and  supple  rounded- 
ness. 

And  budded  bosom-peaks  —  who  this 
way  runs 

Before  the  rest— A  satyr,  a  satjT.  see. 

Follows ;  but  him  I  proved  imnossible ; 

Two-natured  is  no  nature:  yet  he  draws 

Nearer  and  nearer,  and  I  scan  him  now 

Beastlier  than  any  phantom  of  his  kind 

That  ever  butted  his  rough  brother- 
brute 

For  lust  or  lusty  blood  or  provender: 

I  hate,  abhor,  spit,  sicken  at  liim  ;  and 
she 

Loathes  him  aa  'wqW  \  «\xO:i.  «» 'VT5y:^\^r 
tate  heel, 


LUCP.ETIUS. 


■iiklu-v 
liltec  V 


m\t. 


:  Vut  will  ll 


.  ttlBB 


Shune)«u 
Hide,  hldg'  theiu,  mUUou-myrLled  wil- 
rii4ludawiug  laurcla,  Mils  ! 
WliU?— Uiai  UiB  tiuali  wura  leaflesa? 
All  ol"^  " 


Uodi, 


Pniui 


call— 


No  leniliiesg 

.-■£&_.„ 

IJo  larKBf  fnoAt  Cluu 
With  iiBlgblnre  lalJ 
Onlf  mi:!)   cups  as 


behold,  toy. 

Uyed  iMurely  »*  yo^ 
iiBJTowlUB  euTy,  moiike 


awijet.  £|iicui 


J1I3  Uie  Eiiua.  W 

It  us  friendly- 

1  phUoBophy— 

inlifB.'^ 
eeu  mouitei 


I  TUt  and  iUiliy  bands  onon  ray  niU, 
enchiiie  it  bujkwud  liito  Ma  i  oiid 

MybliiB  inboinR:  and  tirasiiotEi'eat; 

Or  Heileoniaii  honey  In  living  words. 
"'     make  a  truth  leaa  hanh,  I  oEteu 

d  o(  Ml  mnch  within  oni  llllle  life, 
I  so  little  In  our  little  lile- 
Poor  little  Ufo  tluit  loddloa  lial 
hour 
ira'd  witlia  ftovec  dcIwOi  and  there 

And  linco  the  nobler  plcaeuto  toe 

Why  Bhonld  I,  bsantUnB  as  I  finJ 


Hit, 


iilike  e 


Bell?- 


'What  beaat  hiu  heart  to  do  il 

:  Homan  wontd  be  dragg' 
<imph  ibus? 

'   '  !,  Vilio  bears  oi 


Kot 


wltli  hei 


_      _  "And  tharttorsno* 
Let  Lit,  that  is  Iha  woiub  and  luml    ' 

Great  [iiiture,   take,   and  tordnc 

llioao  blind  besiiiuiuga  that  have  nuili 


CtackB  oil  b 


And  even  lii»  bones  long  laid  wllldii 

Tile  very  eidm  at  the  grave  itielf  shall 

Vouisbiue',  atom  aud  void,  atom  auJ 

Into  the  unseen  forever, — till  that  hunt 
My  Boldenworkiii  whichltohlatruUi 
That  slayi  Uie  rolling  Ixioulwi  »l«a 
And  numbs  the  is  uty's  tlualewurtt, 

and  iilueka 
The  mortal  »oul  from  out  Im 


Sball  stand:  ay, 


•□rely  :  Uien  It  (at 
must  1  forOIlKKi, 


Yeaiii'd  after  by  tbe  widest  ufUie  wIki 
Who  fidl  to  And  thee,  being  as  thou  art 


Wlt)«)ut 

pail., 
Honbait  I  know 


!t  Struck  the  dntelei 
uul  the  Tnniuininhi 
;r  blood  lii  slcbt  of  Colhi- 
H  his  peer«,  flushing  the  gui] 
Bpautfrom  the  maideli  fDUUluuiL 


Or  Boon  or  late,  yet  out  of  seaaon.  tbB 
Hoiv  roughly  uiBuiiiaj-  woothesi 
Thus— tlinB :  the  soul  Hies  out  ai 

With  that  he  droTo  the  kidfolnWliit 
side: 
She  heard  Idui  raging,  hi^snlhini 

Beat  breast,' tore  hidr.  Filed  out  i 

ben'eir 
A>ihl>TiiiKraiIMbidnlvlo1dm.>1lCfrkU 
aiuktslmbutiiieiuil  to  win  liilu  buck. 

fvll  oil  him, 
Clasp'd,  kin'd  him,   waiVd:   be  tir 

swer'd,"  Care  not  Ihou! 
•lliydulv?  What  in  duty ;-   FiKStW 


TnREE  SONNETS  TO  A  COQUETTE. 


221 


SONG. 

Is  full  of  weary  dars, 
lod  tbiiigfi  have  nut  kept  aloof, 
dered  into  other  wayti : 
not  lackM  thy  mild  reproof, 
>lden  largess  uf  thy  praise. 

f  shake  hands  across  the  hrink 
t  deep  grave  to  which  i  go  : 
indsonce  more  :  1  cannot  shik 
—far  down,  but  I  shall  know 
)ice,  aud  answer  fiom  below. 


THE  CAPTAIN. 
LEGEND  OP  THE  XAVY. 

only  rules  by  terror 

grievous  wrong, 
[ell  I  count  his  error, 
u  hear  my  song, 
le  Captain  was  :  the  seamen 
i  gallant  erew. 
iions  of  EngUsii  freemen, 
I  bold  aud  true. 
'  hated  his  oppression^ 
le  was  and  rash  ; 
ery  light  transgressiou 
d  them  to  tlie  lash, 
ay  more  harsh  and  cruel 
I  the  Captain's  mooil. 
rath  like  smotlier'd  fuel 
in  each  man's  blood, 
oped  to  purchase  glory, 
to  make  the  name 
«sel  great  in  story, 
soe'er  he  came. 
)ast  by  capes  and  islands, 
I  harbor-mouth, 
mder  palmy  highlands 
thin  the  South. 

when  they  were  going 
e  lone  expanse, 
)rth,  her  canvas  flowing, 
ship  of  France. 
)  Captain's  color  heighten'd, 
came  his  speech  : 
»udy  gladness  lighten'd 
eyes  of  each. 

'  he  said:  the  ship  flew  for- 
rd, 

le  wind  did  blow  ; 
Lightly,  went  she  Norward, 
3  near*d  the  foe. 
ly  look'd  at  him  they  hated, 
liat  they  desired : 
Xi  folded  arms  they  waited — 
;un  was  flred. 

heard  the  foeman's  thunder 
g  out  their  doom  ; 
ir  was  torn  in  sunder, 
iig  went  the  boom, 
re  splinter'd,  decks  were  shat- 
d, 

( fell  like  rain ; 
tt  and  deck  were  scattcr'd 
uid  brains  of  men. 


Spars  were    splinter*d;   decks  wcrd 
broken : 

Every  mother*s  son- 
Down  they  dropt— no  word  was  s;jo- 
ken — 

Each  beside  his  gun. 
On  the  decks  as  they  were  lying, 

Were  their  fuces  grim. 
In  their  blood,  us  they  lay  dying, 

Did  tliey  smile  on  him. 
Those,  in  whom  he  had  reliance 

For  his  noble  name, 
Witli  one  smile  of  still  defiance 

Sold  him  unto  shame. 
Shame  and  wrath  his  heart  confound- 
ed, 

Pale  he  turn*d  and  red, 
Till  himself  was  deadly  wounded 

Falling  on  the  dead. 
Dismal  eiTor  !  fearful  slaughter ! 

Years  have  wanderM  by, 
Side  by  side  beneath  the  water 

Crew  and  Captain  lie  ; 
There  the  sunlit  ocean  tosses 

O'er  tliem  mouldering, 
And  the  lonely  seabird  crosses 

With  one  waft  of  the  wing. 


THREE  SONNETS  TO  A 
COQUETTE. 

T. 

Caressed  or  chidden  by  the  dainty 
hand. 
And  singing  airv  trifles  this  or  that, 
Light  Hope  aft  Beauty's  call  would 
percli  and  stand. 
And  run  thro*  every  change  of  sharp 

and  flat ; 
And  Fancy  came  and  at  her  pillow 
sat. 
When  sleep  had  bound  her  In  his  rosy 
band. 
And  chased  away  the  still-recurring 
gnat. 
And  woke  her  witli  a  lay  from  fairy 

land. 
But  now  they  live  with  Beauty  less  and 
less. 
For  Hope  is  other  Hope  and  iranders 
far, 
Nor  cares  to  lisp  in  love's  delicious 
creeds  :, 
And  Fancy  watches  in  the  wilderness. 
Poor  Fancy  sadder  than  a  sinsilti  star. 
That  sets  at  twilight  in  a  land  of 
reeds. 

II. 

Tlie  form,  the  form  :Uono  is  eloquent  > 
A  nobler  yearning  never  broke  her 

rest 
Than  but  to  dance  and  sing,  be  {jayly 
drest. 
Aud  win  all  eyes  with  all  accouiplisli> 

nieiit : 
Yet  in  the  waltzing-circle  as  we  wont, 
My  fancy  made  me  for  a  mumeul; 
bleftl 


«ec«i 


THE  POETS  SONG. 


Id  fliiil  mj  heart  K  ncH  llu  beaiileona 
That  oiico  had  power  to  loli  It  o£  too- 

Tlie  iiliuitom  oCattliihtliatoncecoulil 

A  ebiHt  nf  paulon  Ibat  no  nullui 

Forolil  UiBellBbteoqnntlc.rticraii- 

Ani'i  it  you  klu'il  ber  twt  a  Uioiuand 

Sbe  MlllRnuld  take  UiD  |iial!>e,  nnd. 

W.1I1  Sculptor  weepeil  Uiou  to  lako  llio 

Of  tliose  dead  llnearncntB  ILal  near 
the 8  lie? 

0  sottuwent  Umu,  pale  Puiulur,  for  llie 

In  psliitlnK  Boms  dciil  [risnd  fruni 
Weep  on  :  bcyona  LIb  object  LoTO  can 

IllBobjoL'tllieB:  mDrccaiisalonecp 
iXy  tain,  no  teois  of  love,  nnt  Sowing 

No  team  ot  loTe,  but  tcire  lliat  I^to 

1  pledge  Uer  not  [n  any  clicerEul  cnp. 


1  pledge  be 


All   piLy-Wnl  1 


Moth   caitmrd,  hnppr  earlli.  niid 
Tnn  nraneeiunset'wnnineBlav : 

Pnim  trlngcii  of  the  fuleiJ  eve. 
O,  liappy  planet,  eaatwanl  E"  1 

Till  over  lliy  dark  •honlcler  clow 
'II17  eilTur  Blstar-world,  unQ  iIbo 
Tn  |{1i«  bersolE  In  dewy  cyea 

Tlial  wnl,'h  mo  fconi  llio  glen  boloiv. 

All,  bear  me  vllh  thee,  HmoolhlT  iMtiio, 
IHp  forwaril  under  bIhjtv  light, 

And  inovB  me  10  my  msrriaBe-nioni, 
And  ruunil  agalu  to  Uappj  uigUU 

Break,  break,  brc.ik, 


U  bottt  ou  the  bay. 


And  tbealately  aUpa  tfttm 

Bu  t  O  rtc  tba  Iflueb  of  a  Tau 
And  Uie  Miuua  of  a  voice  I 

Break,  break.  Iireak. 
At  Ibe  fool  of  Uiy  cragi.  ( 

-Will  never  come  back  to 


shd  l^and. 
uuiiaunl 


THE  POET'S  SOSG. 
i  Poet  ai 


A  light  wind  VUbv  from  tiie  gatci  oftta. 

And  witTM  of  sUailow  went  over 
And  he  mj.  him  domi  In  a  lonely  p| 

And   elianted   a   nielwly    load 

That  made  Ibo  TlId-sKan  iianic  in  bei 
An<l  the  huk  drop  down  at  hi*  feet. 

The  Bwallow  alopt  as  be  Iiuiitod  lb* 
The  make  iillpt  rnider  a  ■nmT. 

The  wild  hawk  stood  Vfitb  tlie  downoi: 


er  a  oiip  ea  eay, 

gB  ot  wbML  tliB  world  will 

lu  yean  have  lUed  oway." 


Sow  Ihy  faco  across  bis  tan**  num*, 
And  gives  the  battle  lo  hlilandl. 
Lndy,  let  the  Innnpeta  blow, 
nos[p  thy  little  bnhm  nboiii  iliy  knte: 
^lunlhelTwnrrior father  meelBlhetH 


SOXG. 

R  the;  brought  blni  alahi  wilt 
ey  brought  him  home  atev 


Tlie  Snn  peep*'!  tn  from  0|wn  A^lil 
I'lie  hoy  began  to  leap  and  inr" 
Iteide  upon  Ills  father^  innn, 

Beat  upon  lili  talher-e  diield— 
"Obnih,  my  joy,  uijr  >A 


NORTHERN  FARMER. 


223 


OS  A  MOURNER. 

I. 

Katfrk,  ho  far  as  in  her  lies, 
Imiiatos  God,  and  turns  her  face 

To  every  land  beneath  the  skie^, 
Counts  nothing  that  she  meets  with 

Imse, 
But  lives  and  loves  in  every  place  ; 

II. 

Fills  out  the  homely  qnickset-screens. 
And  makes  the  purple  lilac  ripe, 

Steps  from  her  airy  hill,  and  f^reens 
The  swamp, where  hums  the  dropping 

snipe, 
UTith  moss  and  braided  marish-pipe  ; 

III. 

And  on  thy  heart  a  finger  lays.* 
Stoying,  **  Beat  quicker,  for  the  time 

Is  pleatsant,  and  tlie  woods  and  ways 
Are  pleasant,  and  the  beech  and  lime 
Put  foilh  and  feel  a  gladder  clime.'* 

IV. 

And  TOurmnrs  of  a  deeper  voice, 
Going  before  to  some  far  shrine, 

Teach  that  sick  heart  the   stronger 
choice, 
7111  all  thy  life  one  way  incline 
With  one  wide  will  that  closes  thine. 

V. 

And  when  the  zoning  eve  has  died 

Where  you  dark  valleys  wind  forlorn. 
Come  Hope  and  Memory,  spouse  uud 
bride. 
From  out  the  borders  of  the  morn, 
With  that  fair  child  betwixt  them 
bom. 

TI. 

And  when  no  mortal  motion  jars 
The  blackness  round  the  tombing 
sod. 
Thro*  silence  and  the  trembling  stars 
Comes  Faith  from  tracts  no  feel  have 

trod, 
And  Virtue,  like  a  household  god 

VII. 

Promising  empire ;  snch  as  thos3 
lliat  once  Ht  dead  of  night  did  greet 

Troy's  wandering  prince,  so  that  he 
rose 
With  sacrifice,  while  all  the  fleet 
Had  rest  by  stony  hills  uf  Crete. 


mis 


KORTHERN  FARMER. 

3CEW  STYLE. 

I. 

thou  'ear  my  *erse*s  legs,  as 
tbw  canters  awaiiy  ? 

•qpuUy,  proputty^that  *s 
*Murs  'em  saily. 


Proputty,  propntty,  propntty— Sam, 
thou  *s  an  ass  for  thy  paai'ns  : 

Theer  's  moor  sense  i'  one  o'  'is  legs  nor 
in  all  thy  braains. 

II. 

WoU— theer  *s  a  craw  to  pluck  wi'  tha, 

Sam  :  yon  's  parson's  'ouse— 
Dosn't  thou  *knaw  that  a  man  niun  be 

eather  a  man  or  a  mouse  ? 
Time  to  think  on  it  tlien ;  for  thou  *11 

be  twenty  to  weeftk.* 
Proputty,  proputty— woft  then  woi— 

let  ma  'ear  mys^u  speak. 

III. 

Me  an*  thy  muther,  Sammy,  'as  beSn 

a-talkin'  o'  thee  ; 
Thou  *s  been  talkin'  to  muther,  an*  she 

bean  a  tellin*  it  me. 
Thou  '11  not  many  for  munny— thou  'a 

sweet  upo'  parson's  las:j — 
Noil— thou '11  many  for  luvv— an*  we 

boath  on  us  thinks  tha  an  a»s. 

IV. 

Seea'd  her  to-daay  goii  by— Saaint's- 
daay— they  was  ringing  the  bells. 

She 's  a  beauty  thou  thinks— an'  soa  is 
scoors  o*  gells, 

Them  as  'as  munny  an'  all— wot 's  a 
beauty  ?— the  flower  a8  blaws. 

But  proputty,  proputty  sticks,  an'  pro- 
putty, proputty  graws. 

V. 

Do'antbe  stunt :  t  taake  time  1 1  knawa 

what  niaakes  tha  sa  mad. 
Wam't  I  craazed  fur  the  lasses  mys^n 

when  I  wur  a  lad  ? 
But  I  knaw'd  a  Quqakor  feller  as  often 

'as  towd  ma  this  : 
**  Doant  thou  marry  for  munny,  but  goi 

wheer  munny  is  ! " 

VI. 

An*  I  went  wheer  munny  war :  an*  thy 

mother  coom  to  'and, 
Wi'  lots  o'  munny  laa'i'd  by,  an'  a  nice- 

tish  bit  o'  land. 
Maaybe  she  wam't  a  beauty  :— 1  niver 

giv  it  a  thowt — 
But  wam't  she  as  good  to  cuddle  an* 

kiss  as  a  lass  as  'ant  uowt  ? 

VII. 

Parson's  lass  'ant  nowt,  an'  she  weant 

'a  nowt  when  'c's  deiid, 
Mun  be  a  guvness,  lad,  or  suuimut,  and 

addle  t  her  bread : 
Why?  fnr  'e's   nobbut   a  curate,  an* 

weant  nivir  git  naw  'i^her  : 
An'  'e  masLde  the  bed  as  'e  ligs  on  afoot 

*e  coom'd  to  the  shire. 

viir. 

And  thin  'e  coom'd  to  the  parishwi 
lots  o'  'Varsity  debt, 

*  This  wt«k.         ^  OYttUnule.         'V'^vro^ 


■V 


c 

^^ 

226                            TISE  GOLDEN  HUPPEH. 

~fl 

Sluni  1'r  III"  1>'<«  liul  VHiiiiJi'il,  none 

Found.  a>  It  «emM.  n  i-knloloi.  r,1-.»e, 

"knBiv  ivhiT-.    . 

lUvine  of  {lead  nien'a  dualand  IwaUiig 

■'Hb  cmw  nw  out,"  elia  wept,  "and 

jom"  — swnil. 

Ine,  bom 

Kot  from  l»lle,lnB  mind,  but  .Lal- 

rush  ■ 

ter-d  nerve. 

yet  liauiillHg  Julian,  u  lier  own  ra- 

prool 

Sprang  up  n  (ilondahlp  that  may  help 

At  »inB  predpitin™  In  lier  bnrUl. 

us  yet. 

Then,  wfien_  her  own  IruB  »plrH  UBd 

For  while  we  niam'il  along  Iba  OiBmsj 

For  joa  hato  ijlrcn  me  lite  and  love 

I  leanit  the  drearier  .tnry  "'  lHa  Ufo ; 

1 

And  iioiio  but  you  yourBcIf  ahull  toll 

And,  tho'  he  loved  and  lionorM  IJan«l. 

Found  that  the  auOdeii  wdl  111*  lady 

hi  in  of  It, 

made 

Aud  JOB  Bhall  Elva  mo  bacic  »lioii  ho 

Dwelt  In  his  fancy  :  did  he  know  her 

rolunw." 

"Slay  tbeu  allttlo,"  aiiawcT'd  Julian, 

ncr  beantv'e»eii?»liouia  he  not  be 

"  here. 

And  keep  jounelf.  none  knoivlng,  to 

Ev'n  by  the  ptleo  tbnt  olUore  aet  upon 

alay. 
So.  not  m;  hone;  butseud  ma  notka 

Tlie  vnliie  of  that  Jewel  he  bad  to 

H 

guard? 

H 

■Wh6n''h8'' ratorna,  and  lUeu  will  I  te- 

Sud-lenly  camo  her  notice  and  -mt 

Iwlth'^Si-lerer  10  hi.  native  Bay. 

■ 

Andl'»m'm«](o  ft  solemn  offerliifiof 

■ 

TohimyoulovB."  And  f aiiiUy  aho  re- 
-And''l  win  do  yo«r  will,  «id  iiolio 

""""t^!?-"'""'"'"''*"^"""* 

H| 

That  makea    tJio   Bequel    pure;  Uio" 

^^1 

DeglMiilii([HttliB«pa'lflVnowiioninM. 

Xot  know  7  wlih  sncli  a  aecret  to  bo 

Noi»U"h  am  I  :  a»d  yt  I  aay.  theWM 

Uiit  ■ll'lhelVliDuaewaa  old  and  loved 

them  both, 

But  ir  my  nelghboi  whlsllo  answcTB 

AuJ   all  the   house   had  known   tho 

What  nmtlsr?  Ihere  are  olhen  lu  Uw 

M  t 

Had  dl'ed  aliaoet  ti.  aeiTO  them  any 

Yet  wlTen  I'ww  her  (and  I  ll.ought  Um 

^H 

And  all  Ibo  land  woa  wniU  and  boU- 

And  tbun'bo  lode   awsy ;   hut  after 

A  i;ell  and  kecperl,  ILose  dark  eye*  uf 

hera- 

An  hour  or  two.  Camilla'i  traTBil  i-nnie 

Oh  !  Buch  dark  eye*  1  and  not  her  eyn 

Upon  hur.Nid  UiiLtd=va  l>oy  wnsbotn, 
Uel[  -at  Ida  face  and  land,  to  Uouel. 

But   all    Item   theae    to    wliero    aha 
lonrh'd  on  earth. 

H 

And   thoa  our  lonely   loter  rode 

For  atieh  _n    cKllne.1    aa    JuUaUlB 

^^1 

And  pau^iiE  Blahostol  in  ft  manh, 

Kci  leia  than  one  divine  apology. 

^H 

TborofeTer  aelied  upgu  him;  niywlf 

waathan 

So   Bweetly   and   Bo   modeiUy    all* 

TnTBlUiig  that  laud,  and   nn^anC  to 

To  greet  iiB,  her  young  bero  In  her 

^H 

And  aluiug  dSUn  lo  aueh  a  !»«,  re- 

paat. 

'■  Klaa""!!!."  ahe  aald.    "  Tou  gB*a  ma 

It  makes  me  angrr  yet  to  epaak  or  it — 

life  Bgaln. 

I   beard   a jiroanliiK   ovorhoBd,    luid 

He,  hue  for  you,  bad  Imver  awn   It 

Tha  nioulder'J  ataini  (tor  oreryUdng 

HlB  otiictfalhoryou!    Kin  him.  and 

w»  .Ikl 

then 

J 

And  In  a  Ml,  with  nono  to  wall  on 

Forelve  him,  U  bla  name  be  JuUm 

Ti 

K                       "■ 

THE  GOLDEN  SUPPER. 


227 


:  T9Xk  cA  lost  hopes  and  broken  heart  t 

his  own 
Sent  such  a  flame  into  his  face,  I 

knew 
Some  sudden  yivid  pleasure  hit  him 

there. 

Bnt  he  was  all  the  more  resolved  to 

go, 
And  sent  at  once  to  Lionel,  praying 

him 
By  that  great  love  they  both  had  borne 

the  dead. 
To  come  and  revel  for  one  hour  with 

him 
Before  he  left  the  land  for  evermore ; 
▲nd  then  to  friends  —  they  were  not 

many— who  lived 
Bcatteriugly  about  that  lonely  land  of 

his. 
And  bade  them  to  a  banquet  of  fare- 
wells. 

And  Julian  made  a  solemn  feast :  I 

never 
Sat  at  a  costlier ;  for  all  round  his  hall 
From  column  on  to  column,  as  in  a 

wood. 
Not  such  as  here —an  equatorial  one. 
Great  garlands  swung  and  blossom'd ; 

and  beneath, 
Heirlooms,  and  ancient  miiticles  of 

Arc, 
Chalice  and  salver,  wines  that,  Heaven 

knows  when, 
Had  8uck*d  the  lire  of  some  forgotten 

sun 
And  kept  it  thro*  a  hundred  years  of 

gloom, 
Yet  glowing  in  a  heart  of  rnby— cups 
Where  nymnh  and  god  ran  ever  round 

in  cola- 
Others  of  glass  as  costly— some  with 

gems 
Movable  and  resettablo  at  will 
And  trebling  all  the  rest  in  value— Ah, 

heavens ! 
Why  need  I  tell  you  all?— suffice  to 

say 
That  whatsoever  such  a  house  as  his, 
And  his  was  old,  has  in  it  rare  or  fair 
Was  brought  before  the  guest :  and 

they,  the  guests, 
tTonder'a  at  some    strange  light  in 

Julian's  eyes 
(I  lohl  you  that  he  had  his  golden 

hour), 
And  such    a  feast,  ill-suited  as  it 

seem'd 
To  such  a  time,  to  Lionel's  loss  and 

his, 
And  that  resolved  self-exile  from  a 

land 
He  never  would  revisit,  such  a  feast 
So  rich,  so  strange,  and  stranger  ev'n 

than  rich,  • 

Bnt  rich  as  for  the  nuptials  of  a  king. 

And  stranger  yet,  at  one  end  of  the 
hall 


Two  great  funereal  curtains,  looping 

down. 
Parted  a  little  ere  they  mstt  the  floor, 
About  a  picture  of  his  lady,  taken 
Some  years  before,  and  failing  hid  th6 

frame. 
And  iust  above  the   parting  was  a 

lamp : 
So  the  sweet  figure  folded  round  with 

night 
SeemM  stepping  out  of  darkness  with 

a  smiJe. 

Well  then— our  solemn  feast^wo  ate 

and  drank, 
And  might— the  wines  being  of  such 

nobleness  — 
Have   jested  also,  but  for  Julian's 

eyes, 
And  something  weird  and  wild  about 

it  all : 
What  was  it?  for  our  lover  seldom 

spoke, 
Scarce  touch'd  the  meats;  but  ever 

and  anon 
A  priceless   goblet  with  a   priceless 

wine 
Arising,  show'd  he  drank  beyond  his 

use; 
And  when  the  feast  w^as  near  an  end, 

he  said : 

*«  There  is  a  custom  In  the  Orient, 

friends — 
I  read  of  it  in  Persia— when  a  man 
Will  honor  those  who  feast  with  him, 

ho  brings 
And  shows  them  whatsoever  he  ao> 

counts 
Of  all  his  treasures  the  most  beautiful. 
Gold,  jewels,  arms,  whatever  it  may 

be. 
This  custom—" 

Pausing  here  a  moment,  all 
The  guests  broke  in  upon  him  with 

meeting  hands 
And  cries  about  the  banquet—**  Bean* 

liful  ! 
Who  could  desire  more  beauty  at  a 

feast  ?  " 

The  lover  answer'd,  "  There  is  more 

than  one 
Here  sitting  who  desires  it.    Laud  ma 

not 
Before  my  time,  but  hear  me  to  the 

close. 
This  custom  steps  yet  further  when  the 

guest 
Is  loved  and  honor'd  to  the  uttermost. 
For  after  he  has  shown  him  gems  or 

gold, 
He  brings  and  sets  before  him  in  rich 

guise 
That  which  is  thrice  as  beautiful  as 

these. 
The  beauty  that  is  dearest  to  his  heart — 
*  O  my  heart's  lord,  would  I  could  show 

you,'  ho  Bay8« 


THE  GOLDEN  SUPPER. 


•KT'nmjhmrt  too.'    And 
To  Bliow  yud  whit  Is  dea 


Hflfillinasiak 

BDd   M 

A«dl««veW„ 

in  di 

pubho 

lk„J'SUh« 
Who  found  UiB 

And  tea.  and  c 

herlili'dlilu.,  OH 

Eii  Bervice.  wliom  does  It  bslona  t< 

him 
'Wlio  Utrnst  blm  ont,  or  liini  who  Bari 


veredDubtfulhon 


■Woiah'd 

Glani-ed  Ht  tbo  point  of  loir,  lo  pass  \ 

by. 

Afflrmlng  tliat  KB  long  as  either  lived. 
By  all  the  liiwi  ol  Idvq  mid  grateful 

Till  »rvke  of  the  one  bo  saved  na 

due 
All  to  tlie  Bavei—adding.  wllh  a  amlle 


Andllfe  nnd  Umba,  all  Lis  ta  ivork 
Hill." 

Then  Jnlian  made  a  aesrvl  slg 

To  btliw  CaniUle  down  before  il 

And  croaalngliec  own  picture  aa 

And  looklii'iBB  much  lovelier  Ba  1 


A  veil,  that  aeeni'dno  mon 
Fl;lDg  bjr  each  Cue  ear,  an  EaittiW 
With  seedB  of  gold— bo.  nl 
ig'as  a 

'amlBtbL 

tghlgh  111  arms  the  mlgliV 
IT  Julian,  who  hImieU  *U 


it 

AVhilc 

And  slowly  paeing  to  Iho  middle h>a 
liefore  the  boanT  tlieie   pauBtil  HH 

Kard-h caving,  aud  her  e^OB  nponlia 

Not  daiine  yet  lo  gloneo  at  Lionel. 
UutliimBhecaiTled,  himuailighlahW 

Daied  or  amnied,  nor  eyea  of  tntn; 

Only  to  lae  hla  own.  and  staring  whle , 
And  hungoring  for  the  gilt  and  Jowdl'il, 

About  him.  look'd,  tu  he  ii  Ilka  » 

When  JuUan  goes,  the  lordofaUU 

"My  gusata,"  aald  Julian  ;  "youan 

Ev'n  lo  the  utticmost :  In  her  beholil 

Of  all  ihlngi  upon  earili  the  deamiu 

Then  waving  us  aalgii  to  seit  ounalTH 
Led  Ilia  dear  lady  lo  a  rhalr  of  Biato. 
Aiull,  bv  UonefslCtlng.uwhlsfaM 
Firo,  and  dead  BBhee  and  all  Are  igalll 

Andheardhim  muttering.  "So  Iik«.M 

like: 

ShenevertiadnalBter.  I  knewiHiM. 
Some  eouahi  of  hU  and  herv-^  (Kii 

so  like  I  " 
Aud  Uieii  he  snOdenly  ask'd  twi  It  •: 

She  aliook.  and  eaat  her  eyea  down,* 

And  then  aame  other  quesUuu'd  If  * 


THE  HIGHER  PANTHEIS^r. 


229 


Another,  if  Uia  boy  were  hers :  but 

she 
To  all  their  qneriei  answered  not  a 

word. 
Which  made  the. amazement  more,  till 

one  of  them 
Said,  shuddering, "  Her  spectre  I "  But 

his  friend 
Replied,  in  half  a  whisper,  "  Not  at 

least 
The  spectre  that  will  speak  if  spoken  to* 
Terrible  pity,  if  one  so  beautiful 
Prove,  as  1  almost  dread  to  iiud  her^ 

dumb  I" 

But  Julian,  sitting  by  her,  answer'd 
all : 

'<  She  is  but  dumb,  because  in  her  you 
see 

That  faithful  servant  whom  wo  spoke 
about, 

Obedient  to  her  second  master  now ; 

VThich  will  not  Jast.  I  have  here  to- 
night a  guext 

So  bound  to  me  by  common  love  and 
loss— - 

What !  shall  I  bind  him  more  ?  in  his 
behalf. 

Shall  I  exceed  the  Persian,  giving  him 

That  which  of  all  things  is  the  dearest 
tome, 

Kot  only  showing  ?  and  ho  himself  pro- 
nounced 

That  my  rich  gift  is  wholly  mine  to 
give. 

<*  Now  all  be  dumb,  and  pormise  all 

of  you 
Not  to  break  in  on  what  I  say  by  word 
Or  whisper,  while  I  show  you  all  my 

heart.*' 
And  then  began  the  story  of  his  love 
As  here  to-day,  but  not  so  wordily— 
The  passionate  moment  would  not  suf- 
fer that— . 
Past  thro*  his  visions  to  the  burial; 

thence 
Down  to  this  last  strange  hour  in  his 

own  liall ; 
And  tben  rose  up,  and  with  him  all  his 

guests 
Once  more  as  by  enchantment ;  all  but 

he, 
IJonel.  who  fain  had  risen,  but  fell 

again, 
And  sat  as  if  in  chains— to  whom  he 

said: 

•*Take  my  free  gift,  my  cousin,  for 

your  wife ; 
And  were  it  only  for  the  giver*?  pake. 
And  tho*  she  seem  so  like  the  one  you 

lost. 
Yet  cast  her  not  awav  so  f»n«Menlv, 
Lest  there  be  none  left  here  to  bring 

her  back : 
Heave  this  land  forever.*'    Here  he 

ceased. 

llien  taking  his  dear  Indy  by  one 
handi 


And  bearing  on  6ne  arin  the  noble 
babe. 

He  slowly  brought  them  both  to  Lio- 
nel. 

And  there  the  widower  husband  and 
dead  wife 

Rnsh'd  each  at  each  with  a  cry,  that 
rather  seem'd 

For  some  new  death  than  for  a  life  re- 
newed ; 

At  this  the  very  babe  began  to  wail ; 

At  once  they  turn'd,  and  caught  and 
brought  him  in 

To  their  charm'd  circle,  and,  half  kill- 
ing him 

With  kisses,  round  him    closed  .and 
cliispt  again. 

But  Lionel,  when  at  last  he  freed  him- 
self 

From  wife  and  child,  and  lifted  up  a 
face 

All  over  glowing  with  the  sun  of  life. 

And  love,  and  t>oundlcss  thanks— the 
sight  of  this 

So  frighted  our  good  friend,  that  turn- 
ing to  me 

And  saying,  "  It  is  over :  let  ns  go—*' 

There  were  our  horses  ready  at  the 
doors — 

We  bade  them  no  farewell,  but  mount- 
ing  these 

He  past  forever  from  his  native  land ; 

And  I  with  him,  my  Julian,  back  to 
mine. 


WAGES. 

Glory  of  warrior,  glory  of  orator, 
glory  of  song, 
Paid  with  a  voice  flying  by  to  be  lost 
on  an  endless  sea — 
Glory  of  Virtue,  to  fight,  to  struggle, 
to  right  the  wrong— 
Nay,  but  she  aim'd  not  at  glory,  no 
lover  of  glory  she  : 
Give  her  the  glory  of  going  on,  and  still 

to  be. 
The  wages  of  sin  is  death :   if  the 
wages  of  Virtue  be  dust. 
Would  she  have  heart  to  endure  for 
the  life  of  the  worm  and  the  fly  ? 
She  desires  no  isles  of  the  blest,  no 
quiet  seats  of  the  just. 
To  rest  in  a  golden  grove,  or  to  bask 
in  a  summer  sky  : 
Give  her  the  wages  of  going  on,  and 
not  to  die. 


THE  HIGHER  PANTHEISM. 

The  sun,  tho  moon,  the  stars,  the  seas, 
the  hills  and  the  plains  — 

Are  not  these.  O  Soul,  the  Vision  of 
Him  v/ho  reigns  ? 

Is  not  the  Vision  He  ?  tho'  Ho  be  not 
that  which  He  tcevcL^'i 


-V 


HKDICATIOX. 


£«Ttb,  these  taltd  (Un, 

body  and  lir*" 
ArtUiisjriwtflEii 


leiglib  of 
eymbol  ol  Ihy 
irld  lt>  thee  :  tbyaelf  i 


Clorr  about  tliee,  wltbout  (has  ;  mid 

than  (niaileKt  UiJ-  duoin, 
Unking  Uim   liroken  slecnu,  uid  & 


l-pleu 


r  He  Ilea 


bene  In i 


FljiwUBin 
I  plnck  yoi 
Hold  von 


Tlie 


iilleii . 


rolUna 


,f 


licrt-wt » 


nera  when  Ihef  IiIML 


Clowr  iB  Ho  than  iireaiiit'iiE,  irnil  uei 

Ood  iBlnw,  say  the  vl9o;OSou1. 

let  ua  rejoice, 
For  IF  Ne  thunder  by  law  Uis  Itiutider 

Isy^tHlsvolcfl. 
Law  Ia  fjod,  Bar  botob  :  r 

savB  I^H  fool  : 
Brail  wehn-aj. 

■tralgbt  Btall 
And  the  enr  ol 


lid  flower— but  if  I  couM  under- 
lat  ynu  Bre,  root  and  all,  and  sU  In 
bould  know  what  God  and  man  Is. 

LITEKAKV  SQUABBLES. 

r  Gnd  !  the  potty  fools  of  rhyme 
at  shriek  and  sweat  In  riguiy  wan 

_  -fore  the  stony  laee  of  TInio. 

And  look'd  at  b;  the  silent  atais : 
Im  liats  each  other  for  a  song, 
III  do  their  little  best  toblte 
I.I  pliirU  tbeiiretliren  In  the  Ihfong, 
id  scratch  Ihf  vety  dead  for  splUi ; 

And  stmin  to  maTte  an  Inch  of  r' 


DEDICATIOS. 
TBC9R  1o  His  Memory— Bltice  lie  ii 

PeicLaiu'e   bb   Anding  there    uim 

aclouBly 
Some  irooge  of  lilm»alf— 


with  Ml 


!e  other 


1  Indeed  He  B 


ly  own  Ideal  kniglil, 

WOB,  iGdcesBlng  hmsu 

Blander,  no,  not  lUlc 

>  only  and  who  clati 

lealma  to  L 

gloom  of  lu 

The   shadow  of  Ills   Idei   dtew 

eellpie. 
Darkening  the  wotld.    "We  hare 


111  It : 

Her-dver  all  whc 

last  isle. 
Commingled  with 


■Wo  kim 


-  him 


witO- 


Am  aileut :  and   wo  sgb   Lii 

nuived. 
How  DiodeBt,  kindly,  ail- 

With  what  BUbllme  repression 

self. 

And  In  what  llmlta.  and  how  tendMlp; 
>;ot  BwnylnjE  1.1  lilts  tai'tioi.  or  loihril 
Sot  makliig  his  high  pla.ce  Ibo  Iswl 

Of  wing'd  ambiUoiis,  nor  &  Tanta 

Forp^BBu^;  bat  thro' all  IlilB  tiMt 

■Weariug't^"  liile  tloi 


a  and  theirs  and  all  thiugB 

le  small  tonch  of  Charily 
't  Iheni  nearer  <)od-llke  stiili 
the  erowded  Orb  sliould  .'ry 


In  thatllerce  light  wlili:Ii  beats  uponi 

And  blatkenB  every  blot :  torwher* 

Who  tiaiet  forenhadow  tor  an  ouly  so 
A  loTelier  life,  a.  mora  uiiatnlu'd,  till 

hla? 
Or  how  Bhonld  England 

IlDpe  morH  for  these  than 


her   people    and  ' 
li  dawD  of  BU  UU| 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHUR, 


281 


Far-fiighted  Bommoner  of  War  and 
Waste 

To  fruitful  strifes  and  rivalries  of 
peace — 

Sweet  nature  gilded  by  the  gracious 
ffleam 

Of  letters,  dear  to  Science,  dear  to  Art, 

Dear  to  thy  land  and  ours,  a  Prince  in- 
deed. 

Beyond  all  titles,  and  a  household 
name. 

Hereafter,  thro*  all  times,  Albert  the 
Good. 

Break  not,  O  woman's-heart,  but  still 
endure ; 

Break  not,  for  thou  art  Boyal,  but  en- 
dure, 

Bemembering  all  the  beauty  of  that 
star 

Wbich  shone  so  close  beside  Thee,  that 
ye  made 

One  light  together,  but  has  past  and 
leaves 

The  Crown  a  lonely  splendor. 

May  all  love, 
His  love,  tmseen  but  felt,  overshadow 

'Xhee, 
Th6  love  of  all  Thy  sons  encompass 

Thee. 
The  love  of  all  Thy  daughters  cherish 

Thee, 
The  love  of  all  Thy  people   comfort 

Thee, 
Till  God'SL  iove  set  Thee  at  his  side 

again! 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHUR. 

Leodogban,  the  King  of  Caraeliard, 
Had  one  fair  daughter,  and  none  other 

child ; 
And  she  was  fairest  of  all  flesh  on 

earth, 
Guinevere,  and  in  her  his  one  delight. 

For  many  a  petty  king  ere  Arthur 

came 
Knled  in  this  isle,  and  ever  waging  war 
Each  upon  other,  wasted  all  the  land  ; 
And  stUl  from  time  to  time  the  heathen 

host 
Swarm'd  overseas,  and  harried  what 

was  left. 
And  so  there  grew  great  tracts  of  wil- 
derness. 
Wherein  the  beast  was  ever  more  and 

more, 
Bat  man  was  less  and  less,  till  Arthur 

came. 
For  first  Aurelius  lived  and  fought  and 

died. 
And  after  nim  King  Uiher  fought  and 

died, 
Bnt  either  f  aiVd  to  make  the  kingdom 

one. 
And  after  these  King  Arthur  for  a 

space 


And  thro'  the  puissance  of  his  Table 

Round. 
Drew  all  their  petty  princedoms  undei 

him. 
Their  king  and  head,  and  made  a  realm, 

and  reign'd. 

And  thus  the  land  of  Cameliard  was 

waste. 
Thick  with  wet  woods,  and  many  a 

beast  therein, 
And  none  or  few  to  scare  or  chase  the 

beast; 
So  that  wild  dog,  and  wolf  and  boat 

and  bear 
Came  night  and  day,  and  rooted  in  the 

fields, 
And  wallowed  in  the  gardens  of  the 

king. 
And  ever  and  anon  the   wolf  would 

steal 
The  children  and  devour,  but  now  and 

then, 
Her  own  brood  lost  or  dead,  lent  her 

fierce  teat 
To  human  sucklings ;  and  the  children, 

housed 
In  her  foul  den,  there  at  their  meat 

would  growl, 
And  mock  their  foster-mother  on  four 

feet. 
Till,  straighten'd,  they  grew  up  to  wolf- 
like men. 
Worse  than  the  wolves.     And  King 

Leodogran 
Groan'd  for  the  Roman  legions  here 

again, 
And  Caesar's  eagle  :  then  his  brother 

king, 
Rience,  assail'd  him  :  last  a  heathen 

horde, 
Reddenins  the  sun  with  smoke  and 

earth  with  blood, 
And  on  the  spike  that  split  the  moth- 
er's heart 
Spitting  the  child,  brake  on  him,  till, 

amazed, 
He  knew  not  whither  he  should  turn 

for  aid. 

But— for  he  heard  of  Arthur  newly 

crowii'd, 
Tho'  not  without  an  uproar  made  by 

those 
Who  cried,  *'  He  is  not  Uther's  son  "-— 

the  king 
Sent  to  him,  saying,  <'  Arise,  and  help 

us  thou ! 
For  here  between  the  man  and  beast 

we  die." 

And  Arthur  yet  had  done  no  deed  of 

arms, 
But  heard  the  call,  and  came :  and 

Guinevere 
Stood  by  the  castle  walls  to  watch  him 


pass; 
sir 


But  since  he  neither  wore  on  helm  ox 

shield 
The  golden  symbol  ol  'VAft'^Vii^giSkk*^^^ 


f 


kiilglit; 


THE  C03IISG 

pla  kiilgbt  uiiioiij;  his 

DC  'Uicwe  in  ricLier  sttu*  Oinn 

Bbsu>«Umuot,oriBB[k'd  not,  tt  bLs 

One  nniDiig  nisny,  tUo'  lila  fitca  vat 

But  ArtUur,  looking  dowanunl  as  lie 

Felt  thollBht  of  lior  oye«  Into  lili  llto 

piu-b'.'l''"       "''''         *  ""'"" 
Hla  tonta  iKsLds  Uie  loicat.    Aad  lis 

Tlia  liEniliuti.  :iiiil  ha  ileiv  tlie  beBst, 
ami  UWd 

inaa.i" 
BiDKd  pnthwnyi  lot  ttie  hoiitet  Uiil 

Far  while  he  Ilnger'd  lliere. 


A  doiiht  tt 


:  siuoulilotV 


FlnShM  [iirtli  autl  Into  irar  :  for  most 

of  Uieae 
Made  Ueail  sgnlust  litm,  Frying,  "  Who 

That  be  libonid  tu16  n>?   i<bo  hath 

ptDTen  Ulm, 
King  Utbec'saou?  tor  la!  we  luokaC 

hlni 
And  nml  nor  face  nor  bearing,  UinhB 

Are  like  to  tbOBS  of  UUier  vboni  iva 

knew. 
Tlib  IB  the  son  of  GorloY^,  not  the 

Thli  li  tha  ion  of  Anion,  not  the  king." 
And  Arlbar,  paSBlngthenee  to  buttle, 
lelc 
TnvBll,  and  ibroeB  and  agonies  ot  the 

Deilring  io  ho  Join'd  wllh  Guinevere  ; 
AuU  Ihliiklne  as  he  rode,  "  Her  father 

Bald 
TliBt  tbeie  hetveon  the  men  and  heaat 

Shalll  not  lift  lier  from  Ibis  land  of 

Up  to  my  throne,  and  Bide  by  aide  wiih 

What  linpplneBt  <<i  rclsn  n  lonoly  king, 
Vext—O  ye  Blare  Uiataliudderovei- inc. 

Vext  wilt  waste  dreams?  forsaTlng  I 

be  JoiiiM 
To  her  tlial  1b  the  fnl  rest  onder  heaven , 
I  Bsem  on  iioihing  in  the  mighty  world. 
And  cniinot  will  my  will,  nor  work  my 

Wholly,  iinr  mnko  myself  In  mine  own 

Tlelor  and  lord.    But  were  I   Joli.'d 


OF  AUTHUR. 

'Ibeii  might  we  live  together  i 
LUdretmiiiig  with  cue  will  In  , 
lave  powor  on  Ihla  dork  bind  to 
i.iid  PJ'wer  cni  this  dead  world  to 
And  Arthur  from  the  field  ef 


Sayliit^  -H    I  li,   aught  have  BBrrsl 
01  ve  me  thy  dausbtei  GulnevBrs 
Whom  when  ho  heard,  Irfodogran 

Debating— '•  How  ahould  I  that  aai 

king, 
However  ninchLKlmlpmefltmv nee 
OlvemyoiieilBUEhieraavingtoakbii 
And  n  king's  sou  "-lifted  hU  vdS 


A  hoi 


Xm 


,  hia    chiunbeilalii,  n 
tied  all  Ihinga,  and  of  him  tv 
Hifl  counael ;    "  Kiiowest  Ibon 


And  each  U  twice  an  old  m  I :  and  iM 
Is  Merlin,  Uie  vriBo   man   that  f" 

Kltig  LItliDi  thro'  hia  magle  art;  ■ 

Ii  hlerlln'H  master  (bo  llicv  call  hi 

Bleyi-, 
Who  iDURht    hlia    mngic ;    but  I 

Before  the  master,  uid  ao  far,  UiU 

Bleyg 
Laid  magle  by,  and  sat  him  down,  kA 

All  things  and  wliatsoever  Mprl 

In  one  great  annal-book,  where  aIK> 

Will  leai  "the  secret  of  our  AtlifOV 
birth." 
To  whom  the  King  Leodogran  I 
"Oftfeiid,  had  Ibeen  holpeo  balli 


lua,  and  DnutlttB,  and  Bedlvere 

ben.  when  Iheycamo  beron  li 
tliokii.E»«bf. 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHUR. 


283 


And  reason  in  Uie  chase ;  but  where- 
fore now 

po  these  your  lords  stir  up  the  heat  of 
war. 

Some  calling  Arthur  bom  of  GorloYs. 

Others  of  Anton?  Tell  me,  ye  your- 
selves 

Hold  ye  this  Arthur  for  King  Uther's 
son?" 

And  Ulflus  and  Brastias  answer'd, 

«*Ay." 
Then  Bedirere,  the  first  of  all  his 

knights 
Knighted  by  Arthur  at  his  crowning, 

spake — 
For  bold  in  heart  and  act  and  word 

was  he, 
Whenever  slander  breathed  against 

the  king— 

**  Sir,  there  be  many  rumors  on  this 

head: 
For  there  be  those  who  hate  him  in 

their  hearts, 
Call  him  baseboru,  and  since  his  ways 

are  sweet, 
And  theirs  are  bestial,  hold  him  less 

than  man : 
And  there  be  those  who  deem  him 

more  than  man. 
And  dream  he  dropl  from  heaven:  but 

my  belief 
In  all  this  matter— so  ye  care  to  learn— 
Sir,  for  ye  know  that  in  King  Uther's 

time 
The  prince  and  warrior  GorloYs,  he 

that  held 
Tintagil  castle  by  the  Cornish  sea. 
Was  wedded  with  a  winsome  wife, 

Ygerne : 
And  daughters  had  she  borne  him, — 

one  wliereof, 
Lot*s  wife,  the  Queen  of  Orkney,  Bel- 

licent. 
Hath  ever  like  a  loyal  sister  cleaved 
To  Arthur,— but  a  sou  she  had  not 

borne. 
And  Uther  cast  upon  her  eyes  of  love  : 
But  she,  a  stainless  wife  to  GoHcYb, 
So  loathed  the  bright  dishonor  of  his 

love. 
That  GorloYs  and  Kiug  Uther  went  to 

war: 
And  overthrown  was  GorloYs  and  slain. 
Then  Uther  in  his  wrath  and  heat  be- 
sieged 
A'genie   within   Tintagil,   where  her 

men, 
Seeing  the  mighty  swarm  about  their 

walls. 
Left  her  and  fled,  and  Uther  entered 

in, 
And  there  was  none  to  call  to  but  him- 
self. 
80,  compassed  by  the  power  of  the 

king, 
EnforcM  she  was  to  wed  him  in  her 

tears, 
.  Aud  with  a  shameful  swiftness ;  after- 
ward, 


Not  many  moons.  King  Uther  died  him- 
self, 
Moaniuff  and  walling  for  an  heir  to  rule 
After  hnn,  lest  the  realm  should  go  to 

wrack. 
And  that  same  night,  the  night  of  the 

new  year, 
By  reason  of  the  bitterness  and  grief 
That  vext  his  mother,  all  before  his 

time 
Was  Arthur  bom,  and  all  as  soon  \\a 

born 
DeliverM  at  a  secret  postern  gate 
To  Merlin,  to  be  holden  far  apart 
Until  his  nonr  should  come ;  because 

the  lords 
Of  that  tierce  day  were  as  the  lords  of 

this. 
Wild  beasts,  and  surely  would  have 

torn  the  child 
Piecemeal    among    them,  had    they 

known ;  for  each 
But  sought  to  rule  for  his  own  self  and 

hand. 
And  many  hated  Uther  for  the  sake 
Of  GorloYs.  Wherefore  Merlin  took  the 

child. 
And  gave  him  to  Sir  Anton,  an  old 

knight 
And  ancient  friend  of  Uther ;  and  his 

wife 
Nursed  the  young  prince,  and  rear'd 

him  with  her  own  ; 
And  no  man  knew.    And  ever  since 

the  lords 
Have  foughten  like  wild  beasts  among 

themselves. 
So  that  the  realm  has  gone  to  wrack ; 

but  now, 
This  year,  when  Merlin  (for  his  hour 

had  come) 
Brought  Arthur  forth,  and  set  him  in 

the  hall. 
Proclaiming,  *  Here  Is  Uther's  heir, 

j-our  king.' 
A  hundred  voices  cried,  <Away  with 

him! 
No  king  of  ours !  a  son  of  GorloYs  he. 
Or  else  the  child  of  Anton,  and  no 

king. 
Or  else  baseboni.*    Yet  Merlin  thro' 

his  craft. 
And  while  the  people  clamor'd  for  a 

king, 
Had  Arthur  crown'd;  but  after,  the 

great  lords 
Banded,  and  so  brake   out  in  open 

war." 

Then  while  the  Ling  debated  with 
liimsel  f 

If  Arthur  were  the  child  of  shamef  uU 
ness. 

Or  born  the  son  of  GorloYs,  after  death, 

Or  Uther's  sun,  and  born  before  his 
time. 

Or  whether  there  were  truth  in  any- 
thing 

Said  by  these  throe,  there  cduo  \a 
CameliarOL) 


THE  COmNG 

Wltb  GMmtn  «nd  joiing  SI  odMd,  her 
Loriwite.tlio'QuoanotOtkncj-,  BbUI- 
Wlumi  oabecould.notuhonould.tlia 
VaAe  Icnat  loi,  ujlng,  w  Lbs;  sat  at 


"Adcu 


WHIR  tram  ArtliBc'g  court  1  tMuk 
8a  tew  lilis  kuiGbu.  Iioootcc  btavu  Uie; 


Hith  I" 


enow  to  beat  his  loei 


.11  tell 


"  O  Mne,"  she  cried,  "  and  I  ■ 

Few,  but  bU  hmrc,  all  n!  one  mind 

1  wiu  iiuar'bim  -when  tlie  wiyagfi 

Ot  rtlier'a  poeraga  died,  and  Arlbui 

CrownMon  the  daft,  ftiiillUairiHTiorK 

■  B«  Ihuu  iho  king,  ajid  wo  will  work 

Uiywill 
Wbo  lova  Uiee.'  Tben  Uie  king  lii  Ion 

—Id  Biniplo  wonia  ot  graaC  Bulltfirlty. 
Boand  Ibem  by  bo  btralt  vowa  to  LI: 

That  wbcn  Uic;  rose,  kuigbted  from 

kueelbig.  tome 
'WciB  paloaB  BCtbs  ptueliiEOCa  gboRt, 
" — 10  Hiwh'ii.  and  ouiera  daied,  as  ouo 

nim  nakoq 
Hair-bliiided  at  tha  comiDg  of  a.  ligbt. 

"BntwbenLa  Bpakc  andcbecc'dblB 

IVitli  Xar^e  divine  and   comfoitabte 

Bejond  niylouEoa  to  tell  tbee— t  be- 

Frora  eye  lo  cjB  Ibro' al!  Heir  Order 


And  ei 


.' tbo 


Uowi 


Id  tlinae  ar 


mUiecs 


P 


"And  lliere  I 


OF  AiiTnun. 

And  bandred  wliitero  an  but  M  ItM 

Ot  lojnl  TMBalii  toiling  tor  their  U^. 

"And  near  liim  itood  tbe  Ud;  of 
IbeUOie, 
Vtho  kuowa  a,  BUbtlci  magic  Itaanlili 

Clothed  ill  white  BBmite,  mytiic,  kob- 

Oertul. 
She  gavetbokiiiEblebuge  ciotE-lilllal 

Whereby  to"  drive  Oie  bealben 


■I'd  about  her,  Bi 

ilinigii  wag  bidden  In  the  nltitttt 
_grooui  i 
But  ibcre  was  beard  among  liis  bolf 

^"'f  lhBwnlerB,for  iiiedwelll 
kn  lbs  woTld,  and  Kb 

tHce  lOllB. 

wer  1u  walk  Ibo  wale 


That  roes  (rom  oi 
And  Attbui  row'd 


:  and  e; 


le  liNt 


Ttiat  meii  aru  blinded  bj  it— o» 
OrBTen  In'lba  oldest  tongue  of  all  lHU 
•  Take  me.' but  turn  tbo  blade  iiaily°* 
0  Bpeicb  je  ipf* 
And  tad  w 


youradf. 


it,  but 


d  Iter 


Flama-color,  lert  and  azure,  In  I 
One  falling  upon  eacli  of  Ibree  lAlr 
IVbo  stood  ill  silence  near  bin  Uiroue. 
Of  Artbur,  gnuing  on  blni,  (ull,  wltli 

bright 
Bweet  faces,  who  wilt  help  1dm  Dt  hl> 


"Si  . 

'Tflko  thou  and  'Blrlke!  the  Unw 
Is  yet  far  off."  Bo  tiiis  greiu  branil  t 
Took,  au'cP  bj;  this  will  beat  bii  tM» 

Thereat    Leodogmn    rc)ol««d,   I 
thought 
To  ■lEtblB  douhLlnga  to  lbs  last,) 

Filing  tuli  eyes  of  queitloD  on  ', 

■'The  swallow  and  Ihe  swift  an  n 


akin. 


to1o» 


H  nugo  Merlin, 


analiier  of  GorloVa  and  Tgerm  I 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTIIUn, 


235 


*'  And  therefore  Arthur's  sister/'  ask*d 

the  Kiuff. 
She  aii8wer*d,  ''These  be  secret  things/* 

and  sigii*d 
To  those  two  sous  to  pass  and  let  them 

be. 
And  Gawain  went,  and  breaking  into 

song 
Sprang  out,  and  foUowM  by  his  flying 

Ilan  like  a  colt,  and  leapt  at  all  he  saw: 
Bat  Modred  laid  his  ear  beside  the 

doors. 
And  there  half  heard ;  tho  same  that 

afterward 
Stmek  for  the  throne,  and  striking 

iouiid  hid  doom. 

And  then  the  Qneen  ronde  answer, 

"  What  know  1  ? 
For  dark  my  mother  was  in  eyes  and 

hair, 
And  dark  in  hair  and  eyes  am  I ;  and 

dark 
Was  GorloYs,  yea  and  dark  was  Uthcr 

too, 
Wellnigh  to  blockncsc ;  but  this  king 

is  fair 
Beyond  the  race  of  Britons  and  of  men. 
Moreover  always  in  my  mind  I  hear 
A  cry  from  out  the  dawning  of  my  life, 
A  mother  weeping  and  I  hear  her  say, 
'  O  that  ye  had  some  brother,  pretty 

one. 
To  guard  thee  on  the  rough  ways  of  the 

world.'" 

"  Av,"  said  the  King,  "  and  hear  ye 
such  a  cry  ? 
But  when  did  Arthur  chance  upon  thee 
lirst?" 

«*0  king!"  she  cried,  **and  I  will 

tell  thee  true: 
Be  found  me  first  when  yet  a  little 

maid: 
Beaten  I  had  been  for  a  little  f nult 
Whereof  I  was  not  guilty ;  and  out  I 

ran 
And  flung  myself  down  on  a  bank  of 

heath. 
And  hated   this  fair  world  and   all 

therein, 
And  wept,  and  wi8h*d  that  I  were  dead; 

and  he — 
I  know  not  whether  of  himself  he 

came, 
Qr  brought  by  Merlin,  who,  they  say, 

can  walk 
Unseen  at  pleasure— he  was  at  my  side. 
And  spake  sweet  words,  and  comforted 

my  lieart, 
Attd  dried  my  tears,  being  a  child  with 

me. 
And  many  a  time  he  came,  and  ever- 
more 
As  I  grew  greater  grew  with  me  j  and 

sad 
At  times  he  seemM,  and  cad  xdth  him 

was  I, 


Stern  too  at  times,  and  then  I  loved 

him  not. 
But  sweet  agidn,  and  then  I  loved  him 

well. 
And  now  of  late  I  see  him  less  and 

less, 
But  those  first  days  had  golden  hours 

for  me, 
For  then  I  surely  thought  he  would  be 

king. 

"  But  let  me  tell  thee  now  another 

tale: 
For  Bleys,  our  Merlin's  master,  as  they 

say, 
Died  but  of  late,  and  sent  his  cry  to 

me, 
To  hear  him  speak  before  he  left  his 

life. 
Shrunk  like  a  fairy  changeling  lay  the 

mage, 
And  when  I  entcr'd  told  me  that  him- 
self 
And  Merlin   ever  served   about  tlie 

king, 
Uther,  before   he  died,  and  on  Uio 

night 
When  Uther  in  Tintagil  post  away 
Moaning  and  wailing  for  an  heir,  tlie 

two 
Left  the  still  king,  and  passing  forth 

to  breathe, 
Then  f  loni  the  castle  gateway  by  the 

chasm 
Descending  thro'  the  dismal  night— a 

night 
In  which  the  bounds  of  heaven  and 

earth  were  loBt — 
Beheld,   so    high    upon    the    dreary 

deeps 
It  scem'd  in  heaven,  a  ship,  the  shape 

thereof 
A  dragon  wing'd,  and  all  from  stem  to 

stern 
Bright  with  a  shining  people  on  the 

decks. 
And  gone  as  soon  as  seen.    And  then 

the  two 
Dropt  to  the  cove,  and  watch'd  tho 

great  sea  fall. 
Wave  after  wave,  each  mightier  than 

the  last, 
Till  last,  a  ninth  one,  gathering  half 

the  deep 
And  full  of  voices,  slowly  rose  and 

plunged 
Boaring.  and  all  the  wave  was  in  a 

flame  : 
And  down  the  wave  and  in  the  flame 

was  borne 
A  naked  babe,  and  rode  to  Merlin's 

feet, 
Wlio  stoont  and  cauglit  the  babe,  and 

cried 'The  Kiivg! 
Here  is  an  hcii*  for  uther ! '  And  tho 

fringe 
Of  that  gi-eat  breaker,  sweeping  up  the 

strand, 
Lash'd  at  the  wizard  as  he  spake  the 

word. 


«p 


ehUd  ftnd  be  wers  clotbed 
nUj  IhaiTifter  follow'd 
111  tlilB  aama 
oigiis ;  i\or  coulJ  I  port  tn 
itw  were  Wld."  And  saying  this 
Iks  «tnll  uiil  dreadful  pau 

and  nak'd  lilm  If  tbese  IMngi 

werettutli— 
The  ililiilug  drafion  and  Uie  naked 

clilld 
RMCBiicling  In  Ilia  glorr  of  (He  ten— 
Ho  laugh'f a«  It  hli  «oiil,  and  aiiswerM 

In  riddling  tTtpleU  of  old  lime,  nod 


TITE  COJffNG  OF  ARTUUR. 

>pake  aad  King  Leodogran  n 


Doubted,  and.  drowsed,   nodded  ai 

Blapl,  aiiil  B«w. 
DreamiiiB,  a  ilopo  of  land  Uiat  i\ 

Field  afuf  Held,  op  to  a  beiglit,  |] 

Hue-hidden,  aud  thereon  a  nltuilc 

king. 
Now  looming,  and  now  lost;  and  ■ 

The  Bword  rose,  tlio  hind  feK,  the  1>«4 

was  driven. 
Filo  gUropsed;  ond  all  tlio  Iftndfroi 

In  ilriflB  of  utloke  betorl  a 

Stroam'd  to  the    peak,  and  niinglal 

And  mndfl  it  iliiokcr  :  while  llw  abi^ 

torn  kins 
Sent  out  at  time*  BToifo;  ondhtroM 

Slew  on  and  liunil,  crying.  ■'  I 
Ko  Bon   ol  'ether,  and   Ho  ] 


And  tnnh  1»  thli  lo  mc.  and  Ihal  l- 

And  truth' or  clothed  or  naked  let  1 
be. 
Haii>.  Bun.  and  ruin  I  and  the  fee 


From 


i¥lia  kilo 


lo  the  great  dee 


"SuMerllnridiUlnaanBBr'dme;  but 
thou 
Feat  not  lo  giro  this  kinethino  oiily 

OuinevFre:  sugrcut  harda  of  him  will 

Heieof  let  \  and  dark  Baying*  (tom  of 

KanglnE  and  ringing  Uico'  the  niUiilB 

And  Mhu'd  'by  old  folk  beside  lUelt 

For  comfort  after  Iheit  waso-wotk  b 

Speak  of  I'ha  king  T  ami  JlerUu  In  our 

Hntb   »pokeu  «l«o,  not  in  ]eet,  and 

Tho'inen  may  woandWm  that  bo  will 

not  die. 
But  pass,  again  to  come  ;  and  Uion  ot 

TTtterly  Bmite  the  heathon  iindertool. 
Till  tfteie  and  all  men  bail  him  for 
rlielrkln;." 


Tillw: 


ikhledre 


UlOus,  B 
yei 
Then  Arllinr  charged  bla  mirlM 

And  honor'd  moat,  Sic  1. 

ride  forih 
And  brine  the  Queen  ;-« 

himlromtbeEatea 
'-  '   '  — ■^tlot  pBBt  - 


flowf 


Ouit 


■  April) 

Among  the  aowDrs.  in  ^lay,  w! 

To  vrbom  arrived,  by  Dubrio  tho  Id 

Chief  of  ihB  church  In  Britain,  and  I 

fore 
The  itatelleat  ot  bar  altar-abrfoet,  I 

ThatmornwaBmuvied,  vhlleln  t'.i 


vofa 


oWor 


leBB  white, 
Tlio  fair  Iwgii.n 

lifknilbia  """"'  '""*  """" 
SIooil  mundbim,  and  re]nlelnc  In 

1  holy  nubile  Bpn«d  hii  band*  u 

BVliH, 


GAnETII  AXD  LYNETTE. 


m 


•■Reign  re,  nn«l  live  and  love,  ami 

make  tlie  world 
Other,  and  may  thy  Queen  he  one  wilh 

thee, 
And  all  thin  Order  of  thy  Table  Ilonnil 
Fullil  the  hoiuidless  i>urpose  of  their 

king.'* 

Then  at  the  marriage  feast  came  in 

fromKomiV,  ' 
The    Biowly-fading   mistress  of    the 

world,- 
Great  lonls,  who  claimM  the  tribute  as 

of  yore. 
But  Arthur  spake,  "Behold,  for  these 

have  sworn 
To  fight  my  wars,  and  worship  mo  their 

king ; 
The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place 

to  new ; 
And  we  that  light  for  our  fair  father 

Christ, 
Seeing  that  ye  be  grown  too  weak  and 

old 
To  drive  the  heathen  from  your  Boman 

wall, 
No  tribute  will  we  pay :  "   so  those 

great  lords 
Brew  b.ack  in  wrath:,  and  Arthur  strove 

wit^  Rome 

And  Arthur  and  his  knighthoo<l  for  a 

Fpace 
Were  all  one    will,    and    thro*    that 

strength  the  kin^ 
Brew  in  the  petty  princedoms  under 

him. 
Fought,  and  in  twelve  great  battles 

overcanie 
The  heathen  hordes,  and  made  a  realm 

and  reignM. 


GARETII  AND  LYNETTE.* 

VITn  THIS   POEM  THE  AUTHOU  COX- 
CLUDES  *'THE  IDYLS  OF  THE  KINO." 

The  last  tall  son  of  Lot  and  Belli- 

cent. 
And  tallest,  Gareth,  in  a  showerful 

spring 
Stared  at  the  spate.    A  slender-shafted 

Pine 
Lost  footing,  fell,  and  so  was  whirl'd 

awny. 
"How  he  went  down,"  said  Gareth, 

"  as  a  false  knight 
Or  evil  king  before  my  lance  if  lance 
Were  nnno  to  use— O  senseless  catar- 
act. 
Bearing  all  down  in  thy  precipitancy— 
And  yet  thou  art  but  swollen  with  cold 

snows. 
And  mine  is  living  blood :  thou  dost 

His  will, 

*Oa«btit  followt  Ti»K  CoMixa  or 
Arrnrn,  and  Tii«  Last  TouR.NAMtKT  prc- 
c«de«Gt-iXBVEitif. 


The  Maker*8,  and  not  knowest,  and  I 

that  kn<iw, 
Have  strengih  and  wit,  in  my  good 

mother's  hall 
Linger  with  vacillating  obedience, 
rrisonM,   and  kept   and   coax'd  and 

whistled  to — 
Since  the  gootl  mother  holds  me  still  a 

Chi  hi— 
Good  mother  is  bad  mother  unto  me  ! 
A  worse  were  better ;   yet  no  worse 

would  I . 
Heaven  yield  her  for  it,  but  in  me  put 

force 
To  weary  her  ears  with  one  continuous 

prayer. 
Until  she  let  me  fly  diseased  to  sweep 
In  ever-highering  eagle-cnrcles  up 
To  the  great  Sun  of  Glory,  and  thence 

swoop 
Down  iipon  all  things  base,  and  dash 

them  dead, 
A  knight  of  Arthur,  working  out  his 

will. 
To  cleanse  the  world.    Why,  Gawaln, 

when  he  came 
With  Modred  hither  in  the  summer- 
time, 
Ask'd  me  to  tilt  with  him,  the  proven 

knight, 
Modred  for  want  of  worthier  was  the 

judge. 
Then  I  so  shook  him  in  the  saddle,  he 

said, 
*  Thou  hast  half  prcvailM  against  me, 

said  so— he —  * 

Tho*  Modred  biting  his  thin  lips  was 

mute. 
For  he  is  always  sullen  :  what  care 

1?" 

And    Gareth    went,   and   hovering 

round  her  chair 
AskM,  "  Mother,  tho'  ye  count  me  still 

the  child, 
Sweet  mother,  do  ye  love  the  child?" 

She  laughM, 
"  Thou  art  but  a  wild-goose  to  question 

"  Then,  mother,  and  ye  love  the  child,** 

he  said, 
*'  Being  a  goose  and  rather  tame  thau 

wild, 
Hear  the  child's  story."    "Yea,  my 

well-beloved, 
An't  were  but  of  the  goose  and  goldeu 

eggs." 

And  Gareth  answerM  her  with  kind- 

ling  eyes, 
"  Nay,  nay,  good  mother,  but  this  egj 

of  mine 
Was  finer  gold  than  any  goose  can  lay; 
Bor  this  an  Eagle,  a  royal  Eagle,  laid 
Almost  beyond  eye-reach,  on  such  a 

palm 
As  glitters  gilded   in  tijy  Book    oi 

Hours. 
And  there  was  ever  haunting  round  the 

palm 


GARETn  jilVD  LYNETTE. 

Sta;  tbErerDretbol] 


1  cuuld  oUmb  and  lay  tnj  baud 

1  were  1  "wenltMor  Itmn  n  leatli  ol 
kliijjB.- 
""  whon  lie  ie«cl>'il  a  liand  to 

One,  llini  lud  Iniedlilm  from  hiscMld- 
bood,  rauifUt 
nilBUy'd  liliii.  ■Climb  not  lest  tbon 

tliiirao  tliea  by  luy'  lore,'  aiid  eo  tlio 

Smiel  mother,  neltberclomb,  nor  brake 


ro  nbom  tho  m 
Kvuut  nun,  bad 
I  glirafd, 


And  Gar 

UiiU 
"Oold?M 

Uul  Teiitu 


lU  goldeu  tisna 
ir'aiiernithkl 


I    i   ffold  ?— ftjr   ' 


I,  ivUr 

sif  Uie  world 
ililug  1  ipakD 

More  BOl'l— '"''  til!*  waaalloliliatiruo 

Wbarmif  tliej  loraod  tbo  brand  Elcal- 

16ur, 
AmlllgbtiilngspUj'od  bIkiuC  ItliitLo 

And  all  tUe  llttlo  Ennl  noro  nnrrlud  at 

and  clOBbiiiEi  1:1 


go." 


Ill  BelllontbemDiin'd  bersolF  niid 
ealil, 
"Hut  tbnu  no  pU;  upon  uiy  loiieli- 

Ifl,  wlieto  Iby  fatber  Lot  bosldo  Tjn 

bear  111 
I.ie>  like  a  V'S.  and  all  but  smoulder- d 

hen  trail 
itbiui  ii 

idAtttiiir  gars  Lhu  bad 

■  BgeliaUielowlydroopt,  c 


Liid  b'llli  Iby  brslbruii  i 

liall, 
Albeit  iiultber  lored  i 


.E» 


a  iaaoetDX,  Vnt  jc 

lOirest  Hoser-atlie,  not 


In  tboe. 


■rtunulng  abwl^i,  mil 
FrlEbtK  lo  my  heart ;  but  itay  :  : 
By  these  tall  flraaud  onr  lastfaUlnj 

So  make  tby  mniihood  miglniec  <1 

day ; 

Sweet  IB  tlio  chase  ;  andlwillaeekUiM 
Souie  tomlortable  b 
Thy  Lllmbire   1 

Tin  filling  liito  ] 
I  know  not  thee, 


■   and   cherish  n; 


Tho  piiiicobia  heir,  wboutallandaiu- 

tlaeeatiie, 
Aslt'd  for  a  bride ;  and  IberfniwD 

KjMff 

Set  two  beCere  blni.     One  was  h 


ileslted, 
1  Ibese  we  - 


one,  good  laek,  lu  b 


A  Lhat  olher,  whoii 
ceii  bride  vlio  hue' 


And  one— they  call'd  1 

one,  O  Motb«r. 
Uow  can  you  keep  me  t 


on  the  ChrJit, 


GARETn  AND  LYXETTE. 


Or  irlll  not  deem  liim,  wholly  proven 

King— 
Albeit  in  mine  own  lieart  I  knew  liim 

King, 
"When  I  was  frequent  with  him  in  my 


youtli, 
h<      " 


And  heard  him  Kingly  speak,  and 

doubted  him 
Ko  more  than  he,  himself ;  but  felt 

him  mine, 
Of  closest  kin  to  me  :  yet— wilt  thou 

leave 
Thine  easeful  biding  here,  and  lisk 

thine  all, 
Xife,  limbs,  for  one  that  is  not  proven 

King? 
Stay,  till  the  cloud  that  settles  round 

his  birth 
Hath  lifted  but  a  little.     Stay,  sweet 

sou." 

And  Gareth  answered  quickly,  "  Not 

an  hour, 
So  that  ye  yield  me— I  will  walk  thro* 

fire, 
Mother,  to  gain  it— your  full  leave  to 

go. 
Not  proven,  who  swept  the  dust  of 

ruin'd  Rome 
From  off  the  threshold  of  tho  realm, 

and  crush'd 
The  Idolaters,  and  made  the  people 

free? 
"Who  should  be  King  save  him  who 

makes  udfree?" 

So  when  the  Queen,  who  long  had 

sought  in  vain 
To  break  him  from  the  intent  to  which 

he  grew, 
Found  her  son's   will   unwaveringly 

one, 
She  answer'd  oraftily,  **  "Will  ye  walk 

thro'  fire  ? 
Who  walks  thro*  fire  \rill  hardly  heed 

the  smoke. 
A       go  then,  an  ye  must :   only  one 

proof. 
Before  thou  ask  the  King  to  make  thee 

knight, 
Of  thine  obedience  and  thy  love  to  me, 
Thy  mother,— I  demand.'* 

And  Oareth  cried, 
"  A  hard  one,  or  a  hundred,  so  I  go. 
Kay — quick !  the  proof  to  prove  me  to 
the  quick  I  '^ 

But  slowly  spake  the  mother,  look- 
ing at  him, 

*'  Prince,  thou  shalt  go  disguised  to 
Arthur's  hall, 

And  hire  thyself  to  serve  for  meats 
and  drinks 

Among  the  scullions  and  the  kitchen- 
knaves. 

And  those  that  hand  the  dish  across 
the  bar. 

Kor  Shalt  thoa  tell  thy  name  to  any 
one. 


280 

And  thou  shalt  serve  a  twelvemonth 
and  a  day." 

For  so  the  Queen  believed  that  when 

her  son 
Beheld  his  only  way  to  glory  leatl 
Low  down  thro'  villaiu  kitcheu-vassal- 

age. 
Her  own  true  Gareth  was  tooprincely* 

proud 
To  pass   thereby  ;   so  should  ho  rest 

with  her, 
Closed  in  her  castle  from  the  sound  of 

arms. 

Silent  a  while   was   Gareth,    then 

replied, 
**  The  thrall  in  person  may  be  free  i:i 

soul. 
And  I  shall  see  tho  jousts.    Thy  son 

am  I, 
And  since  thou  art  my  mother,  must 

obey. 
I  therefore  yield  me  freely  to  thy  will; 
For  hence  will  I,  dlsgui»ed,  and  hire 

myself 
To  serve  with  scullions  and  with  kitch- 
en-knaves ; 
Kor  tell  my  name  to  any— no,  not  the 

King." 
Gareth  awhile  lin^er'd     The  mother's 

eye. 
Full  of  the  wistful  fear  that  ho  would 

go. 
And  turning  toward  him  wheresoo'er 

he  tum'd, 
Perplext  his  outward  puriwse,  till  an 

hour, 
"WTien  waken'd  by  the  wind  which  with 

full  voice 
Swept  bellowing  thro*  the  darkness  on 

to  dawn, 
He  rose,  and  out  of  slumber  calling  two 
That  still  had  tended  on  him  from  his 

birth, 
Before  tho  wakeful  mother  heard  him, 

went. 

The  three  were  clad  like  tillers  of  tho 
soil. 

Southward  they  set  their  faces.  The 
birds  made 

Melody  on  branch,  and  melody  in  mid- 
air. 

The  damp  hill-slopes  were  quicken'd 
into  green, 

And  the  live  green  had  kindled  Into 
flowers, 

For  it  was  past  tho  time  of  Easterday. 

,  So,  when  their  feet  were  planted  on 

the  plain 
That  broaden'd    toward  the  base  of 

Camelot, 
Far  off  they  saw  the  silver  misty  mom 
Boiling    her  smoke  about  tho  Koyal 

mount. 
That  rose  between  the  forest  and  the 

field. 
At  times  the  summit  of  the  hish  dtr 

Haah'd; 


■HP 


city  liiKl 


340 

Al  llTtiM  tliaiplm  I 

rrloVa  tUro'Un  ml 

On1y,?lmlo5ai°don" 

--'M.  tlis  wUole  111 

pear' J. 

Tben  tlioia  »ho  went  wltli  GnrcUi 
wars  iiniuBa, 
OiiacryliiE,  "l^t  uaeoiiDfHrUier.  lord. 
^fte  1»  B  I'lty  of  Einlimitarji,  buiU 
By  fHiry  King*,"    'rlii) geeoud  uoJio'il 

lnOrO.  wolmvB  honrd  tcoiu  oar  wise 

I  KortbwBtil,  UinI  UilB  King  is  iioC 

Jt  only  clmiiKclIng  nnt  of  Fairyland. 
bu  dravo  Uio  lieftUieii  lieiice  by  aor- 

nd  Msrlln's    b''"1"»"'.'"     Then  the 

tjinl.  ITnTH  ii  no  Buclielly  anywhere. 


Willi  \ 

1.0'*"  wIli'iT.lil*  princedom,  j-oulh 

To  plunge  old  ilcriin  In  the  Atablau 

il'tliem  all  uiiwllliiig  toward 

LB  no  gatQ  lllia  it  under 


rroin 


i  Willi  V 


nr  hue  b 


right, 


il 


:t  o{  liet,  a 

D  ATLliur'B  vara  In  weird  dccii 

'  thliitn  and  old  co-twiBtcd,  aa 
Time 
Were  iioUiliig,  Ki  tnTelBcalely,   11 

Wens  olddT  gaxing  tliero  ;  and  orer 
Hlall  on    UiB   lolJ   were  Iliosa   tli! 

Dtieena,  the  frlenrla 
DrAHlinr,  nhoihouldlielEililnkat 


IbGnrei 


«lcrE« 


lis  flenres,  Ih&t  at  lai 
baashta  and  elvish  embltiD- 
i^tMicDthc,  twinoandc 
^  "  lAoH,   ths   KSteiray  Ii 


LmlGnrethllkewlBe 
So  long,  thnt  ev'n  to  1> 


m  ft  It  111* 


Fioni  nut  Ihcreuuder  came  ail  Bnri 
Long-lJpBidEd.  paylog,  "  TVho  be  j*, 

UiyBOHB!" 

Then  Gareth.  "  TVe  be  tllleraotUW 
1  tunow  coRi. 
IE :  hut  these,  nj 
I  ncirdly  in  Ihi 
Douht  W'ibo  King  be  King  at  all 
Iryland;  »ud  whether  Uil 


ivlns  Bliai 


The  E'or 


And  thers  w 
hoaveu  . 
Tot  baiefoot  on  tho  kcyatono,  whicb 

And    rippled  Ulio   an    ovet-fleetlni! 

Lndy  ofUio  Lako  1 

Wept  froni  her  Bides  ae 

Bnt  like  tlio  ccosslier  great  and  goodly 

SUetdi'd  under  nil 
held : 


hull  I 
By  magie,   and  by   lairy  Kings  and 

Or  whether  lli'arc  bo  any  pltj  lit  ■ 
Or  all  a  vision :  and  tula  mUKie  m 
Hath  scared  them  lioth,  but  tel 
Uiesa  Uio  truth." 

Then  Umt  old    Seer    made  a 


lUlp  tail 


a  la  truth  ;  but  nu  it  pi 
lu  the  ttum  OB  thou.  hastWl 


Jkliaipld 


— ,.  — „. latlisnlM 

tlinC  hold 

The  King  nsbitdoir.  and  the  dty  raili 
Yut  lake  thou  haeduf  hlui,  for,  so IbW 

Denes  th  Ibis  nrcliiray,  tlicii  nilt  IbN 


GAnETJI  AND  LYNETTE. 


241 


▲  thrall  to  his  encbantmeuts,  for  the 

King 
Will  bind  thee  by  sudi  yows,  as  is  a 

shame 
A  man  should  not  be  bound  by,  yet  the 

which 
Xo  roan  can  keep  ;  but^  so  thou  dread 

to  swear, 
Pass  not   beneath  this  gateway,  but 

abide 
"Without,  among  the  cattle  of  the  field. 
For,  an  ye  heard  a  music,  like  enow 
They  are  building  still,  seeing  the  city 

is  built 

To  music,  therefore  never  built  at  all, 
■  Aud  therefore  built  forever." 

Gareth  spake 
AngerM,  **  Old  Master,  reverence  tiiiuo 

own  beard 
That  looks  as  white  as  utter  truth,  and 

seems 
Welluigli  as  long  as  thou  art  statured 

Ull  ! 
Whyroockest  thou  the  stranger  that 

hsth  been 
To  thee  fair-spoken  ?  " 

But  the  Seer  replied, 
*'  Know  ye  not  then  the  Kiddling  of 

the  Kards  ? 
■  Confusion,  and  illusion,  and  relation, 
Elusion,  and  occasion,  and  evasion  ? ' 
1  mock  thee  not  but  as  thou  mockest 

ne. 
And  all  that  see  thee,  for  thou  art  not 

who 
Thou  seemest,  but  I  know  thee  who 

thou  art. 
And  now  thou  goest  up  to  mock  the 

King, 
Who  cannot  brook  the  shadow  of  any 

lie." 

Unmockingly    the    mocker  ending 

here 
TuniM  to  the  right,  and  past  along  the 

plain  ; 
Wliom  Gareth  looking  after  said,  '*  My 

men, 
Onr  one  white  lie  sits  like  a  little  ghost 
Hereon  the  threshold  of  our  enterprise, 
l^et  love  be  blamed  for  it,  not  she,  nor 

I  : 
Well,  we  will  make  amends.*' 

With  all  good  cheer 

He  spake  and  laugh'd,  then  enter'd 
with  his  twain 

Camelot,  a  city  of  shadowy  palaces, 

And  stately,  nch  in  emblem  and  the 
work 

Of  ancient  kings  who  did  their  days  in 
stone: 

Which  Merlin's  hand,  the  Mage  at  Ar- 
thur's court, 

Knowing  all  arts,  had  touch'd,  and 
everywhere 

At  Arthurs  ordinance,tipt  with  lessen- 
ing peak  • 


And  pinnacle,  and  had  madeltspirs 

to  heaven. 
And  ever  and  anon  a  knight  would 

pass 
Outward,  or  inward  to  the  hall :  his 

arms 
Clash'd  ;  and  the  sound  was  good  to 

Gareth's  ear. 
And  out  of  bower  and  casement  sbylj 

glanced 
Eyes  of  pure  women,  wholesome  stars 

of  love  ; 
And  all  about  a  healthful  people  step! 
As  in  the  presence  of  a  gracious  king. 

Then  into  hall   Gareth  ascending 

heard 
A  voice,  the  voice  of  Arthur,  and 

beheld 
Far  over  heads  in  that  long-vaulted 

hall 
The  splendor  of  the  presence  of  the 

King 
Throned,  and  delivering  doom  —  and 

look'd  no  more — 
But  felt  his  young  heart  hammering 

in  his  ears,  > 
And  thought,  **  For  this  half-shadow 

of  alio 
The  truthful  King  will  doom  me  when 

I  speak." 
Tet  pressing  on,  tho'  all  in  fear  to  find 
Sir  Gawain  or  Sir  Modred,  saw  nor  one  * 
Nor  other,  but  in  all  the  listening  eyes 
Of  those  tall    knights,  that  ranged 

about  the  throne. 
Clear  honor  shining  like  the  dewy  star 
Of  dawn,  and  faith  in  their  great  King, 

with  pure 
Affection,  and  the  light  of  victory. 
And  glory  gaiu*d,aud  evermore  to  gain. 

Then  came  a  widow  crying  to  the 
King, 

**  A  boon.  Sir  King !  Thy  father, 
Uther.  reft 

From  my  dead  lord  a  field  with  vio- 
lence : 

For  howsoe'er  at  first  he  proffer'd  gold, 

Yet,  for  the  field  was  pleasant  iu  our 
eyes. 

We  yielded  not ;  and  then  he  reft  us 
of  it 

Perforce,  and  left  us  neither  gold  nor 
field." 

Said  Arthur.  "  Whether  would  ye? 

gold  or  field?" 
To  whom  the  woman  weeping,    **  Nay, 

my  lord. 
The  field  was  pleasant  iu  my  husband's 

eye." 

And  Arthur,     "  Have   thy  pleasant 

field  again. 
And  thrice  the  gold  forUther's  use 

thereof, 
According  to  the  years.    No  boon  ia 

here. 
But  justice,  so  thy  say  be  proven  trae» 


V 


CAnF.TIl  .\NU  LYNETTE. 


Aceur*e-1i  who  rreni  lbs  vrougs  lili 
Wouia  ilut^  lilDuelf  u  right  I  '■ 

And  wL[l«  Blia  pn>t. 
Cume  yet  Btiothar  widow  crjiiiB  ti.  lilni 
"  '  ' 1,  Sir  King  I    Iblne  eiisniy, 

us  own  bind  thou  Blowpitmv 
ir lorO, 

louihi 
^EoliistfliBo,  mnytuijlliounrrt  basely 

J  livid  wlUi  tbcse,  uid  loaUio  to  OBk 

llieo  snglit. 
Yel  lo  I  m;  liiuband'a  LrolliEr  lind  my 

Tlirnll'd  in  hli  waWa,  iiiid  hatli  aianei 


Kill  Uid  fuuUliIet.nudwrealc  toe  for 

lUJ  «H1," 

'TUa^\  itrfxlfl  ik  coad  knl^lit  fnrwanl, 
••  A  boon.  Sir  Kiiic  I  I  urn  bsrkii^s- 
Qlretne  UirlghC  lier  wrons,  luid  Blay 
lenctma  Sir  Eay,  tbescneinlinl, 

..  boon,  Sir  'King  1  eT'n  that  thou 
grant  licr  iinne, 
Thb  iiiler.  that  luith  mock'd  tbee  in 

mil  liiUI- 
KoiiB  I  or  tho  wholraome  boon  of  gyre 
and  gag." 
But  Arlhttr,  "  Wo  sit,  King,  lo  holy 

Thro'  ■llourrBBlin.    Thewonuin  loves 

Iier  lord. 
Peace  lotlies.womnn,  wilh  thylorei 

TbalilnB«it  old  had  doom'd  thae  to 

AurolluB  Em  rya 'would  haro  acourged 

And  Uthor  allc  tby  toneue  :  hut  cet 

't/ai:  Ihnt  roUEh  humor  of  tho  klnga  q( 

Iletani  upon  ina  I     Thou  that  art  her 

kin, 
Go  likewtae;  laj-blmluw  and  alay  him 

ButbTliiEhlm  hero,  that  I  may  Judge 
Ilia  right, 

llieii.  I'slieguilly,  I'y  that  duaUileas 
■tl«il  dlol"  "  ' 


Then  catnG  in  ball  Uw 
Mark, 

AnnmoofcTllMiTorint 
ThoCon.isU  king.    Inei 

'Wliat  dauled  all.aud  Ebonsfai^SM 

A  fleld  of  cliHrlook  In  the  rci 


ThloSdomi  he  laid  before  tbB  II10114 
3elivorlt.g,  that  Lia  Lord,  tlia  n»t 

or  having  heard  (bat  Anburitfliil 

lad  muds  hia  goodly 
ud,  foASiaeif  wn 

conaln.TrUtn^ 

--f^P^^ 

Soproy'd  him  wail  to  atiept  tliii  cl«* 

In  Cokeu  of  true  heart  and  leallj. 

Then  Arthur  cried  lo  rend  thBclul^ 

111  pleiias,  and  ao  cri>t  1[  on  Iha  Ixulk 
An  oak-tree Buioulder'dthMS.   "Hi, 

Eondly  knight ! 
Wbatl  ahal!  the  ahleldoC  MaAKa^ 

For,  midway  dowu  the  liile  ofttat 

long  hall 
A   atfltely    liile.-whenor  atone  OK 

Soma  hlazon'J.  aoms  but  rarvou.Ml 

Bomo  blank. 
There   ran   a  treble  ranee  of  a'MJ 

rfiiBlda,-  ■* 

Rose,  Bud  hlKh-ardiing  oTerhrow'dUia 

hearth. 
And  utidei  every  ahield  a  kiilglit  va  , 

For  this  vtai' Arthur's  custom  In  Ua 

hall : 
"When  aoma  goml  knight  bad  don*  mil 

Hit   arma  wero 'carren   only;  but  « 

Ilia  nnii^<  were  blaion'it  alio;  bat  It 

The  ahield  waa  blank  and  bare  wllkaul 

Saving  the  name  beneath  ;  and  GuaUi 

The  ahleld  of  Gawaln  blaioii'd  lUk 

audbrldit. 
And  jMixIred's  blank   u  death;  una 

Arthur  cried 
To  rend  the  Elolh  and  caat  it  on  til* 

bearth. 

"  More  llks  an  we  lo  reavo  hliD  ol 
Than  nuike  him  knight  becauM  IBCB 


GARETH  AND  LYXETTE, 


243 


Tbe  kings  wo  found,  ye  know  we  stay'd 
their  hands 

From  war  among  themselyes,  but  left 
them  kings ; 

Of  whom  were  any  bounteous,  merci- 
ful, 

Truth-speaking,  brave,    good  livers, 
them  we  euroU'd 

Amous  us,  and  they  sit  withiu  our 
Hall, 

But  Mark  hath  tamish'd  the  great 
name  of  king. 

As  Mark  would  suUy  the  low  state  of 
churl : 

And,  seeing  he  hatli  sent  us  cloth  of 
gold, 

KeturUy  and  meet,  and  hold  him  from 
our  eyes, 

Liestwe  should  lap  him  up  in  cloth  of 
lead, 

Silenced  forever— craven— a  man  of 
plots 

Craft,  poisonous  counsels,  wayside  am- 
bushines— 

Kg  fault  of  tbiue  :  let  Kay,  the  senes- 
chal, 

liook  to  thy  wants,  and  send  thee  satis- 
fied- 
Accursed,  who   strikes   nor  lets  the 
hand  be  Keen ! " 

And  many  another  suppliant  crying 

came 
^Titli  noise  of  ravage  wrought  by  beast 

and  man. 
And  evermore  a  knight  would  ride 

away. 

Last  Gareth  leaning  both  hands 
heavily 

Down  on  the  shoulders  of  the  twain, 
his  men, 

Approach'd  between  them  toward  the 
King,  and  ask'd, 

**  A  boon,  Sir  King  (his  voice  was  all 
ashamed), 

"For  see  ye  not  how  weak  and  hun- 
ger worn 

I  seem — leaning  on  these?  grant  mo 
to  serve 

For  meat  and  drink  among  thy  kitchen- 
knaves 

A  twelvemonth  and  a  day,  nor  seek 
my  name. 

Hereafter  I  wiU  fight.*' 

To  him  the  King, 
"A  goodly  youth  and  woi-th  a  goodlier 

boon  r 
But  an  thou  wilt  no   goodlier,  then 

must  Kay, 
The  master  ox  the  meats  and  drinks, 

be  thine." 

He  rose  and  past ;  then  Kay,  a  man 
of  mien 

"Wan-sallow  as  the  plant  that  feels  it- 
self 

Boot-bitten  by  white  lichen, 

**  Lo  ye  now ! 
This  fellow  bath  broken  from  some 
Abbey,  where, 


Qod  wot,  ho  had  not  beef  and  brewls 

enow, 
However  that  might  chance  1  but  an 

he.  work, 
Like  any  pigeon  wift  I  cram  his  crop. 
And  sleeker  shall  he  shine  t^an  any 

hog." 

Then  Lancelot  standing  near,  "Sir 

Seneschal, 
Sleuth-hound  thou  knowest,  and  gray, 

and  all  the  hounds ; 
A  horse  thou  knowest,  a  man  thou 

dost  not  know : 
Broad  brows  and  fair,  a  fluent  hair 

and  fine, 
High  nose,  a  nostril  large  and  fine, 

and  hands 
Largo,  fair   and   fino !— Some   young 

lad's  mystery — 
But,  or  from  sheepcot  or  king's  hall, 

tho  boy 
Is  noble-natured.    Treat  him  with  all 

grace, 
Lest  he   should  come  to  shame  thy 

judging  of  him.'* 

Then  Kay,  *'  What  murmurest  thou 

of  mystery  ? 
Think  ye  this  fellow  will  poison  the 

King's  dish? 
Nay,  for  he  spake  too  fool-like  :  mys- 
tery ! 
Tut,  an  the  lad  were  noble,  he  had 

ask'd 
For  horse  and  armor:  fair  and  fine, 

forsooth  I 
Sir  Fine-face,  Sir  Fair-hands  ?  but  see 

thou  to  it 
That   thine   own   fineness,  Lancelot, 

some  fine  day 
XJndo  ihee  not— and  leave  my  man  to 


>f 


me. 

'  So  Gareth  all  for  glory  underwent 
The  sooty  yoke  of  kitchen  vussalage ; 
Ate  with  young  lads  his  i)ortiou  by  iho 

door. 
And    couch'd    at   night  with   grimy 

kitchen-knaves. 
And  Lancelot  ever  spake  him  pleas- 
antly, 
But  Kay  the  seneschal  who  loved  hlni 

not 
Would   hustle    and   harry   him,   a:id 

labor  him 
Beyond  his  comrade  of  the  hearth,  and 

set 
To  turn  the  broach,  draw  water,  or 

hew  wood. 
Or  grosser  tasks ;   and  Gareth  bow'd 

himself 
With  all  obedience  to  the  King,  and 

wrought 
All  kind  or  service  with  a  noble  ease 
That  graced  tho  lowliest  act  in  doing 

it. 
And  when  the  thralls  had  talk  among 

themselves. 
And  one  would  praise  the  love  that 

linkt  the  King 


V 


i 


AtidLwiertot-liowllie  KLij  bail  mtbiI 
■^        ■■!•  Ilfo 

ll  twiM,  nnj  Un.^»lot  Olico  lli« 

rw  LiiKBlut  wiiB  the  fint  In  Toucn*- 

But  Arlliur  inlBlitleat  on  tlie  l>atl1e- 

■  glad.    Or  It   ■ome  dUicc 

th«  wiuideTli'g  tomler  at 


Ou  CMr<Knril'i    lililioac 

A  nak«il  iNtbv,  ol  wlumi  ibo  PropUec 

"  Ha  iHUum  lo  Uie  IbIb  AtIIIou, 

Ho  pwoe*  «'»'  W  liMl'J  i^J  c»uuDt 

Quatli  WM  tlnJ.    But  It  tUi^li  tnlk 

TliBU  would  bfl  whltlle  raiil.l  ns  miy 
Inrk. 

irtil  aonia  oM  roundelay, 
loua 

lIKt  Uicy  mock'il,  Lut  after, 
■retiM-Il'K" 


GAllETU  AND  LYNETTE. 

Tlili,  QikTBth  hssTlne  fnm  m  iqak* 
of  Lot 
With  «f lioni  lie  used  f  o  plaj  tx  taamiy 

^Yben    both    ware   clitldrEn,   and  la 

lonely  liBunt* 
Would  ■ciaUU  a.  ragfed  dtoI  ou  iba 

And  BARh  nt  eilliec  dash  from  ^itaei 

Stmme  never  madB  Eirl  redder  Uun 

He  ImiRli'il ;  lie  EprBng,     "  Out  of  the 

toot  to  PcUTa 


1  leap  Iruni  Satuii'a 

Theto  news  l<a  mine, 
■     Kiug-s- 


DCiCi 


-in^''alone 


tlio  city;"  n-bereoB  be 

liimall,  '' 

"IbavoBtttgffer'dlliystronEGairaia 
For  paBtima;  yea,  be  said  it: 
Make  me  tby  knlglit — in  secret!  let 
Ba  Idd^n,  and  s^ve  me  t<!e  Bist  qUOt, 
Like  flaiue  from  asbes." 

Hero  tlio  Klnc'i  calm  m 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE. 


245 


And  the  Ring— 
"••  But  wherefore  would  ye  men  should 

wonder  at  you ! 
^*ay,  rather  for  the  sake  of  me,  their 

King, 
^And  the  deed's  sake  my  knighthood 

do  the  deedy 
'^lian  to  be  noised  of.*' 

Merrily  Gareth  ask'd, 
^  Have  I  not  eam'd  my  cake  in  baking 

of  it? 
Ijet  be  my  name  until  I  make  my 

name  I 
OCy  deeds  will  speak  :  it  is  but  for  a 

day." 
So  with  a  kindly  hand  on  Gareth's 

arm 
Smiled  the  great  King,  and  half-un- 

willingly 
liOTinff  his  lusty  youthhood  yielded  to 

him. 
Then,    after     summoning    Lxmcelot 

privily, 
**  I  haye  given  him  the  first  quest :  he 

is  not  proven. 
Look  therefore  when  he  calls  for  this 

inhaU, 
Thou  get  to  horse  and  follow  him  far 

away. 
Cover  the  lions  on  thy  shield,  and  see 
Far  as  thou  mayest,  he  be  nor  ta'en 

nor  slain." 

Then  that  same  day  there  past  into 
the  hall 

A  damsel'of  high  lineage,  and  a  brow 

May-blossom,  and  a  cheek  of  apple- 
blossom, 

Hawk-eyes ;  and  lightly  was  her  slen- 
der nose 

Tip-tilted  like  the  petal  of  a  flower  ; 

She  into  hall  past  with  her  page  and 
cried, 

**  O  Kinff,  for  thou  hast  driven  the  foe 
without. 

See  to  the  foe  within !  bridge,  ford, 
beset 

By  bandits,  every  one  that  owns  a 
tower 

The  Lord  for  half  a  league.  Why  sit 
ye  there  V 

Rest  would  I  not.  Sir  King,  an  I  were 
king, 

Till  ev'n  the  lonesthold  were  all  as 
free 

From  cursed  bloodshed,  as  thine  altar- 
cloth 

Prom  that  blest  blood  it  is  a  sin  to 
spill." 

"Comfort  thyself,"  said  Arthur,  "I 

nor  mine 
Rest:   so  my   knighthood  keep  the 

vows  Cbey  swore. 
The  wastest  mobdaud  of  our  realm 

shall  be 
Safe,  damsel,  as  the  centre  of  this 

hall. 
What  is  thy  name  ?  thy  need?" 


**  My  name  ?  "  she  said— 

"  Lynette  my  name ;  noble ;  my  need, 
a  knight 

To  combat  for  my  sister,  Lyonors, 

A  lady  of  high  lineage,  of  great  lands, 

And  comely,  yea,  and  comelier  than 
myself. 

She  lives  in  Castle  Perilous :  a  river 

Runs  in  three  loops  alK>ut  her  living- 
place; 

And  o*er  it  are  three  passings,  and 
three  knights 

Defend  the  passings,  brethren,  and  tt 
fourth 

And  of  that  four  the  mightiest,  holdn 
her  stay'd 

In  her  own  castle  and  so  besieges  her 

To  break  her  will,  and  make  her  wed 
with  him : 

And  but  delays  his  purport  till  thou 
send 

To  do  the  battle  with  him,  thy  chief 
man 

Sir  Lancelot  whom  he  trusts  to  over- 
throw. 

Then  wed,  with  glory ;  but  she  will 
not  wed 

Save  whom  she  loveth,  or  a  holy  life. 

Kow  therefore  have  1  come  for  Lance- 
lot." 

Then  Arthur  mindful  of  Sir  Gareth 

ask'd, 
**  Damsel,  ye  know  this  Order  lives  to 

crush 
All  wrongers  of  the  Realm.    But  say, 

these  four. 
Who  be  they?    What  the  fashion  of 

the  men?" 

"They  be  of  foolish  fashion,  O  Sir 

King, 
The  fashion  of  that  old  knight-errantry 
Who  lide  abroad  and  do  but  what  they 

will ; 
Courteous  or  bestial  from  the  moment. 
Such  as  have  nor  law  nor  king;  and 

three  of  these 
Proud  in  their  fantasy  call  themselves 

the  Day, 
Morning-Star,    and    Noon-Sun,    and 

Evening-Star, 
Being  strong  fools ;  and  never  a  whit 

more  wise 
The  fourth,  who  alway  rideth  arm'd 

in  black, 
A  huge  man-beast  of  boundless  sav- 
agery. 
He  names  himself  the  Night  and  of- 

tener  Death. 
And  wears  a  helmet  mounted  with  a 

skull 
And  bears  a  skeleton  figured  on  his 

arms. 
To  show  that  who  may  slay  or  scape 

the  three 
Slain  by  himself  shall  enter  endless 

night. 
And  all  these  four  be  fools,  but  mighty 

men. 


\ 


GARETH  AND  LTJVETTS. 


tIi«r«[oi«  am  I 


0  lor  Lwioe- 


Uen 


It  Sit  Oarsth  caira  from  nhere 
leail  wiih  klndliiie  ejBi  tbrrva  the 
.  boon.  Sir  King— tlila  quest !  '  then 
f  near  him  gcoBntiiB  like  a  wounded 
ea.Ktiig.thoukuowBBitliy  kitchen. 
And    mighty   thro'    thy   jaeUt    and 

Tliy  [iromlM,  King,"  uul  Attliui  glaii- 

ciiig  D.t  him, 
Droneht  doirii   a   momentary    brow, 

"  Hough, tudden, 
And  pardoimble,  worthv  in  hn  knigbl— 
Qo  Uieretote,"   uid  all  hearen  wees 

auiazad. 

But  on  UiB  damiel's  rotehcad  bIi 
pride,  wrath. 
Blew  the  May-while  :  sho  lifted  e 


Then  ere  a  man  In  1 


oui,  besi 
The    Held    at 


••  kllohaQ-kuuvo." 

It  BftYellpoim  range 


r?,.r" ' 


or  leyi 

.ninri«e,Baiinno»BrutalnBn.lwcw<l. 
idilowu  from  Oili  a  lordly  Blainyay 

Till  loBt"fiiblo»liie  treea  and  lops  of 

And  out  by  tLla  main  doorway  paat  the 
King. 

Hlsh  tliat   the  lilgbeat-cre.ted  helm 


uld  rids 


trjned 
1  UBmsel  In  li 


and  by  tl' 


and  o\\ 


bara  a  maiden  shield,  a  eaiai 
Uiat  held 
ThcLorse,  tlie  scear  ;  whtreaiSlii 

A  cloBJi  that  dropt  from  coliar-bont 

A  ilotli  o't  rougheatweb,  and  eai 


,    ail   IkhHI 


Duil-coutvd  tliliigij. 

Their   duBk-wiiiE    , 

A  Jewal'd  iiacueSB,  ere  Iticypan  i 

fly.  '  "^ 

So  Qareth  eta  he    patted  flaih'd 

in  while  he  donn'd  tbebelni,! 
.  took  the  shield 
t  mounted  horse  and  ctosblaipc 
■i!gn\n 
— niietheu-d  on  a  wlnily  >1| 


.  around  liln 


With    trenthnnt    . 

■lowlY  prest 
Tlio  poopio,  nud  from  onl  of  Uu 

The  thralls  in  tlirong,  aud  Bfleini 

LuatlBr  thBnauj,  nnd  whom  theyemil 

Mounted  in  atms,  lUrew  up  thdt 

bleu  tlie  King,  and  all  hli  le 


Aiidoi 


I  of  shouting  Caret 


"»!". 


out  ihe  gi 

So  Oareth  pBattfllh  joy;  but  «<i 

Fluckt  from  the  cur  he  Bgbts  with,  < 

lool'd  by  fighting,  folios™,  beU|; 

owner,  'but  tcmembet)  alt,  i 
growl  a 
Bememberiug,  so  Sir  Kay  Imidt 

lof  Carclhtthombl 

To  harry  and  bustle. 

With  horse  and  amis— i 

psBl  Ills  time— 
My  tculUuii  knave      Tbrslls  to  ji 

For  an  yout fire  Im  low  tb  kindlalBl 


Ir  Garelh  atrode,  and  bbw  without  the 

doot 
Cing  Arthur's  gift,  Ihe  worth  ot  lialf  a 

I  warhorse  of  Hie  liest ,  andneer  it  stood 


G ARETE  AND  LYNETTE, 


247 


Cmsed !  How  the  yillaln  lifted  up  his 
yoice, 

Kor  shamed  to  bawl  himself  a  kitchen- 
knave. 

Tut :  he  was  tame  and  meek  enow  with 
me, 

Till  peacock'd  up  with  Lancelot's  uo- 
ticine. 

Well— 1  will  after  my  loud  knave,  and 
leani 

Whether  he  know  me  for  his  master 


yet. 
)fi 


Ont  of  the  smoke  he  came,  and  so  my 

lance 
Hold,  by  God*s  grace,  he  shall  into  the 

mire — 
Thence,  if  the  King  awaken  from  his 

craze, 
Into  the  smoke  again.*' 

But  Lancelot  raid, 
"  Kay,  wherefore  will  ye  go  against 

the  King, 
For  that  did  never  he  whereon  ye  rail. 
Bat  ever  meekly  served  the  King  in 

thee? 
Abide :  take  counsel ;  for  this  lad  is 

great 
And  lusty,  and  knowing  both  of  lance 

and  sword.*' 
"  Tat,  tell  not  me,"  said  Kay,  "  ye  are 

overfine 
To  mar  stout  knaves  with  foolish  cour- 
tesies." 
Then  mounted,  on  thro*  silent  faces 

rode 
Down  the  slope  city,  and  out  beyond 

the  gate. 

But  by  the  field  of  tourney  lingering 

yet 
Matter'd  the  damsel,  *'  Wherefore  did 

the  King 
Scorn  me  ?  for»  were  Sir  Lancelot  lackt, 

at  least 
He  misht  have  yielded  to  me  one  of 

tnose 
Who  tilt  for  lady's  love  and  glory  here, 
Bather  than — O  sweet  heaven '.'    O  lie 

upon  him  — 
His  kitchen-knave." 

To  whom  Sir  Gareth  drew 
(And  there  were  none  but  few  goodlier 

tiian  he) 
Shining  in  arms,  "  Damsel,  the  quest 

is  mine. 
Lead,  and  I  follow."    She  thereat,  as 

one 
That  smells  a  f  oul-flesh*d  agaric  in  the 

holt, 
And  deems  it  carrion  of  some  woodland 

.    thing. 
Or  shrew,  or  weasel,  nipt  her  slender 

nose 
With  petulant  thumb  and  finger  shrill- 
ing, **  Hence ! 
Arold,  thou  smellest  all  of  kitcheu- 

srease 
And   look  who  comes  behind,"  for 

tixere  was  Kay. 


♦*  Knowest  thou  not  me  ?  thy  master  7 

I  am  Kay. 
We  lack  thee  by  the  hearth." 

And  Gareth  to  liim, 
"  Master  no  more  I   too  well  I  knovf 

thee,  ay— 
The  most  ungentle  knight  in  Arthur's 

hall." 
"  Have  at  thee  then,*'  said  Kay :  they 


Shock'd,  and  Kay 
1 


Fell  sjioulder-slipt,  and  Gareth  cried 

again, 
"  Lead,  and  I  follow,"  and  fast  away 

she  fied. 

But  after  sod  and  shingle  ceased  to 

fly 
Behind  her,  and  the  heart  of  her  good 

horse 
Was  nigh  to  burst  with  violence  of  the 

beat, 
Perforce   she  stay'd,   and  overtaken 

spoke. 

"  What  doest  thou,  scullion,  in  my 
fellowship  ? 

Deem'st  thou  that  I  accept  thee  aught 
the  more 

Or  love  thee  better,  that  by  some  de- 
vice 

Full  cowardly,  or  by  mere  unhappi- 
ness. 

Thou  hast  overthrown  and  slain  thy 
master— thou  !— 

Dish-washer  and  broach-turner,  loon  ! 
—tell  me 

Thou  smellest  al!  of  kitchen  as  before." 

"  Damsel,"  Sir  Gareth  answer'd  gen- 
tly, ♦•  say 

Whate'er  ye  will,  but  whatsoe'er  yo 
say, 

I  leave  not  till  I  finish  this  fair  quest, 

Or  die  therefor." 

"  Ay,  wilt  thou  finish  it  ? 
Sweet  lord,  how  like  a  noble  knight  ho 

talks! 
The  listening  rogue  hath  caught  the 

manner  of  it. 
But,  knave,  anon  thou  shalt  be  met 

with,  knave, 
And  then  by  such  a  one  that  thou  for 

nil 
The  kitchen  brewis  that  was  ever  supt 
Shall  not  once  daro  to  look  him  in  tho 

face.** 

**  I  shall  assay,"  said  Gareth  with  a 

smile 
That    madden'd    her,  and  away  she 

flash'd  again 
Down  the  long  avenues  of  a  boundless 

wood. 
And  Gareth  following  was  again  bc- 

knaved. 

"  Sir  Kitchen-knavo,  I  have  miss'd 
the  only  way 
Where  Arthur's  men  are  set  along  the 
wood; 


GARETH  AKD  lYXETTT. 


rh,»wkii 

nlC-.i  »  I 

uU  of  meret  u 

« bou.tr 

lull.,  I  ma 

TidoftbHlbUt 

BlrSculIi'o 
ngUt.  mx" 

ly  *«)•.- 

Ulll«tllBt.pitof 

Sa  t\\\  111 

ediuk  lb 

t  {dUow'iI  ertn- 

K^P 

™«1S;.Kri 

er»ndr«Tll<.di 

Plying  trciraoutofUi 

III  Iha  mere." 
Than  GniBtH,  ■■  Boui 


And  wlmn  the  dsmwl  s] 

uoualy, 
"  Lend  iind  1  lollow," 


brake  a  (ervfng- 
Q  UltLclc  wood ,  nnil 


"  Folk 


■r,'?. 

PllK. 


ldl"l 


IlBpluiised:>»d  there, l>lwl 

lilull  the  mere, 
Aud  uil>T-tlil){h-deep  III  1]i;)ruiil 

Batv  Etx  ml'l  men  halliig  n  nerontl 
A  at'iiie  nbout  hib  neu^,  to  droi 

Fled  tliro' the  pines;  nndGBTBtli  loosed 

From  oH  bis  iiacl[,thBu  in  Uio  mero 

lieelds 
Tumbled   it;   olUly  bubbled   up   tlio 

Lost,  Gnreth  loosed  hlB  bonds  and  on 

free  fi-ct 
Bel  him,  i 


HtallVB 


\rtbur 


"  Well  tl 


I'uitlft  rr 


Una  wreak'.i  tbeniselves  on  i 

dause  is  tlieirn 
To  bill*  me,  for  my  wont  1 

enteh  my  tblef ,  and  tbeii 

wn  hlin.  and  with  a  stone 
neclci 
And  under  IM>  wnn  water 


Andfslii  would  I  rewanltheei 

fullj. 
Wlial  goenlen  will  ;«?" 

Gueih  rbmrrit  (n^b 
>ns  !  for  the  deed's  oAo  b*tg  ] 

done  the  dssd, 
Ltennost  obdlenre  to  Hie  I....,, 
Hill  ye  yield  thie  duuicl  biifeiH- 


Wben 


bellevi 


t  iheB 


rajine,  ■■ 


Broke  from  Lynelle,  "  Aj,  Iml;  of 
Aud  IxT  a,  sort,  t>dng  Ajtbnr's  kilihra 
But  deem  not  1  accept  tboe  augbl  tit 

Scullion.  foirnmiliieGhu'pljirlllillq 


Dowr 


spit 


avm  fop 


11  liBd  saolUirM 
Kay— for  Ihon  rnnellest  of  Uie  UiitB 
Bot  on  tbU  lord  will  jield  oi  lisriM- 

So  she  Bukc.    A  leasoe  tieyDnil  ilH 

Allinufu^-fslrmanor  niuUHch, 
His  towers  where  that  day  a  fetsi  Iw 

Held  in  biBh  lull,  aud  luanya  flu' 

left,  ' 

Aud  many  a  costly  catc,  nMnil  U" 

And  there  the;  plaiHHl  i>  peacoDli  IbW 


Li  mntliil* 
luld  pant  n* 


And  jiray'd  Ibe  kluE 

To  flRht  the  hrotbeiliood  ot  Dq  t^ 

Tlie  lust  a  monfter  nnenbdmible  . 
0[auysaveofldmforwb(nnli!tl1'i1- 
Suddenly  ImwIs  IMb  trouUsss  UliAW 

'  The  qucBt  is  mine  i  Ihy  Wtcheltla*'' 

And  misbt'y  thro' tliyine«UaaJJllu» 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE. 


249 


Then  Arthur  all  at  once  gone  mad  re- 
plies. 

*  Go  therefore/  and  so  gives  the  quest 
to  him  — 

Him—here— a  villain  litter  to  stick 
swine 

Than  ride  abroad  redressing  women's 
wronc, 

Or  sit  beside  a  noble  gentlewoman.*' 

Then  half-ashamed  and  part-amazed, 
the  lord 
l^ow  look'd  at  one  and  now  at  other, 

left 
The  damsel  by  the  peacock  in  his  pride, 
And.  seating  Garetti  at  another  board, 
Sat  down  beside  him,  ate  and  then  be- 
gan. 

•*  Friend,  whether  ye  be  kitchen- 
knave,  or  not, 

Or  whether  it  be  the  maiden's  fan- 
tasy. 

And  whether  she  be  mad,  or  else  the 
King, 

Or  both  or  neither,  or  thyself  be  mad, 

1  ask  not :  but  thou  stnkest  a  strong 
stroke. 

For  Btrons  thou  art  and  goodly  there- 
withal. 

And  saver  of  my  life ;  and  therefore 
now. 

For  here  be  mighty  men  to  joust  with, 
weigh. 

Whether  thou  wilt  not  with  thy  damsel 
back 

To  crave  again  Sir  Lancelot  of  the 
King. 

Thy  pardon ;  I  but  speak  for  thine 
avail. 

The  saver  of  my  life." 

And  Gareth  said, 
**  Full  pardon,  but  1  follow   up   iho 

quest. 
Despite  of  Day  and  Xight  and  Death 

and  Hell.''* 

So  when,  next  mom,  the  lord  whoso 
life  he  saved 

Had,  some  brief  space,  convey'd  them 
on  their  way 

And  left  them  with  God-speed,  Sir  Ga- 
reth spake, 

"Lead and  1  follow."  Haughtily  she 
replied, 

**  I  fly  no  more  :  I  allow  thee  for  an 

hour. 
Lion  and  stoat  have   isled   together, 

knave, 
In  time  of  flood.    Xay,  furthermore, 

roethinks 
Some  nith  is  mine  for  thee.   Back  wilt 

thou,  fool? 

For  hard  by  here  is  one  will  over- 
throw 

And  slay  thee :  then  will  I  to  court 
•gain, 

And  shame  the  King  for  only  yielding 
mo 


My  champion  from  the  ashes  of  his 
hearth." 

To  whom  Sir  Gareth  answered  cour- 
teously, 

"  Say  thou  thy  say,  and  I  will  do  my 
deed. 

Allow  me  for  mine  hour,  and  thou 
wilt  find 

My  fortunes  all  as  fair  as  hers,  who 
lay 

Among  the  ashes  and  wedded  the 
King's  son." 

Then  to  the  shore  of  one  of  those 

long  loops 
"Wherethro*  the   serpent  river  coil'd, 

they  came. 
Kough-thicketed  were  the  banks  and 

steep ;  the  stream 
Full,  narrow ;  this  a  bridge  of  single 

arc 
Took  at  a  leap ;  and  on  the  further 

side 
Arose  a  silk  pavilion,  gay  with  pold 
In  streaks  and  rays,  and  all  Leut-li!y 

in  hue. 
Save  that  tho  dome  was  purple,  and 

above, 
Crimson,  a  slender  banneret  flutterirg. 
And  there  before  the  lawless  warrior 

paced 
Unarm'd,  and   calling,    "Damsel,  13 

this  he, 
The  champion  ye  have  brought  from 

Arthur's  hall  ? 
For  whom  we  let  thee  pass."   "Nay, 

nay,"  she  said, 
"  Sir  Moming-Stur.  The  King  In  utter 

scorn 
Of  thee  and  thy  much  folly  hath  sent 

thee  here 
His  kitchen-knave :  and  look  thou  to 

thyself : 
See  that  ho  fall  not  on  thee  suddenly. 
And   Blay  thee   unarm'd :  he   is   nob 

knight  but  knave." 

Then  nt  his  call,  "O  daughters  of 

the  Dawn. 
And  servants  of  the  Morning-Star,  ap 

proach 
Arm  me,"  from  out  the  silken  curtain- 
folds 
Barefooted  and  bareheaded  three  fair 

girls 
In  gilt  and  rosy  raiment  came  :  their 

feet 
In  dewy  grasses   glisten'd  ;    and  the 

hair 
All  over  glanced  with  dewdrop  or  with 

gem 
Like  sparkles  in  the  stone  Avantunne. 
These  arm'd  him  in  blue  aims,  and 

gave  a  shield 
Blue  also,  and  thereon  tho  mondnK 

star. 
And  Gareth  silent  gazed  upon  the 

knight. 
Who  stood  n  moment,  era  his  horse 

was  \>rout^\xt.« 


f- 


\ 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE. 


251 


"Parables?  Hear  a  parable  of  the 
knave 

When  I  was  kitchen-knaye  among  the 
rest 

Fierce  was  the  hearth,  and  one  of  my 
co-mates 

Own*d  a  rough-  dog,  to  whom  he  cast 
his  coat, 

'  Guard  it,*  and  there  was  none  to  med- 
dle with  it. 

And  such  a  coat  art  thou,  and  thee  the 
King 

OftTC  me  to  guard,  and  such  a  dog  am 

^f 
To    worry,   and  not  to  flee— and  — 

knight  or  knave — 
The  knave  that  doth  thee  service  as 

full  knight 
Is  all  as  good,  meseems,  as  any  knight 


»goc 
Oiy 


Toward  thy  sister's  freeing. 

"Ay,  Sir  Knave! 
At.  knave,  because  thou  strikest  as  a 

knight 
Being  but  knave,  I  hate  thee  all  the 

more.'* 

**  Fair  damsel,  ye  should  worship  me 
the  more. 
That,  being  but  knave,  I  throw  tliine 
enenues*'* 


ff 


•*  Ay,  ay,"  she  said,  "  but  thou  shalt 
meet  thy  match.*' 

-    So  when  they  touched  the  second 

river-loop, 
Huge  on  a  huge  red  horse,  and  all  in 

mail 
Burnished  to  blinding,  shone  theKoon- 

day  Sun 
Beyond  a  raging  shallow.   As  if  the 

flower, 
That  blows  a  globe  of  after  arrowlets. 
Ten  thousan(^fold  had  grown,  flash'd 

the  fierce  shield. 
All  sun ;  and  Gareth's  eyes  had  flying 

blots 
Before  them  when  he  tum'd  from 

watching  him. 
He  from  beyond  the  roaring  shallow 

roar'd, 
•*What   doest  thou,  brother,  in  my 

marches  here  ?  '* 
And  she  athwart  the  shallow  shrill'd 

again, 
*'Here  is  a  kitchen-knave  from  Ar- 
thur's hall 
Hath  overthrown  thy   brother,  and 

hath  his  arms." 
*  Ugh  I "  cried  the  Sun,  and  vizoring 

up  a  red 
And  cipher  face  of  rounded  foolish- 
ness, 
Push'd  horse  across  the  foamings  of 

the  ford. 
Whom  Gareth  met  midstream :  no 

room  was  there 
For    lance    or   toumev-skiU :     four 

strokes  thej  ftnicii: 


With  sword,  and  these  were  mighty : 

the  new  knight 
Had  fear  he  might  be  shamed ;  but  as 

the  Sun 
Heaved  up  a  ponderous  arm  to  strike 

the  fifth. 
The  hoof  of  his  horse  slipt  in  the 

stream,  the  stream 
Descended,  and  the  Sun  was  wash'd 

away. 

Then  Gareth  laid  his  lance  athwart 

the  ford ; 
So  drew  him  home ;  but  he  that  would 

not  fight, 
As  being  all  bone-battered  on  the  rock. 
Yielded  ;  and  Gareth  sent  him  to  the 

King. 
**  Myself  when  I  return  will  plead  for 

thee. 
Lead,  and  I  follow."    Quietly  she  led. 
*'Hath   not  the   eood  wind,  damsel, 

changed  again ! " 
**  Nay,  not  a  point :  nor  art  thou  vic- 
tor here. 
There  lies  a  ridge  of  slate  across  the 

ford; 
His  horse  thereon  stumbled— ay,  for  I 

saw  it. 

"  *  OSun*  (not  this  strong  fool  whom 

thou,  Sir  Knave, 
Hast  overthrown  thro'  mere  unhappi- 

ness), 
'  O  Sun,  that  wakenest  all  to  bliss  or 

pain, 
O  moon,  that  lay  est  all  to  sleep  again. 
Shine  sweetly :   twice  my  love  hath 

smiled  on  me.' 

"  What  knowest  thou  of  lovesong  or 

of  love  ? 
Nay,  nay,  God  wot,  so  thou  wert  nobly 

born, 
Thou  hast  a  pleasant  presence.    Yea, 

perchance, — 

<*  *  O  dewy  flowers  that  open  to  the 

sun, 
O  dewy  flowers  that  close  when  day  is 

done. 
Blow  sweetly:  twice  my  love  hath 

smiled  on  me.' 

"  What  knowest  thou  of  flowers,  qjt 
cept,  belike, 

To  garnish  meats  with  ?  hath  not  our 
good  King 

Who  lent  me  thee,  the  flower  of  kitch- 
endom, 

A  foolish  love  for  flowers  ?  what  stick 
ye  round 

The  pasty?  wherewithal  deck  the 
boar's  head  ? 

Flowers?  nay,  tlie  boar  hath  rose- 
maries and  bay. 

<^ '  O  birds,  that  warble  to  the  morn- 
ing sky, 
O  birds  that  warble  as  the  day  goes  by, 
Sing  sweetly :  twice  th';)  Vsn^  \AM2Kk 
smiled  on  me** 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE. 


"Whutlii 


llglit. 


It  thou  of  biidB,  iBik, 

le. 

LreAm  ye  wbcn  Ihej 

lo  gronlng  wllU  the  growing 

BQiKworsliip  ?  UiOBebefoi 

n  ruiiB  thy  lancy)  Iheee  be  for  thB 

ipit, 
itding  mid  hiuUng.    See  tbou  bSTi 

kriiul  diy  last,  except  tboa  turn  sni 

cellar 

For  there  beyond  a  bridge  Of  treble 


PHvillan.tonliBgiiEzleddamMfltuil, 
And  ann'd  faim  In    oLd  anuAi  ud 

biought  a  helm 
With  but  a  drjInR  sierEreFn  fmmiL 
And  gave  a  shield  wheteou  UieEItigl 

'riilBh'd  and  halt-bright,  hli 


diawD,  and  OTetltin* 


Deep-dimpled  enrrentundBrnCttth,  the 

knight. 
That  named  hlnwclf  the  Star  of  Evo 

uiug,  Btood. 

And  QBToth, 

D  open  dayaU 

.  -ik«J 

Bklna 
That  fit  hliD  like  bis  own  -,  and  so  ys 

UlB  annor  od  him,  these  nlll  turn  the 

blade." 
Then  tbe  third  brother  ahonted  o'er 

the  bridge, 
"  O  brother-star,  why  ahlne  ye  hero  bo 

Thy  wiird  la  higher  np ;  but  have  ye 

The  damsel's  champion  ? "    ami   the 


That  aliln  lator.  sadder  an  beclM 
To  war  agaiiist  ill  uses  of  a  UlB. 
But  these  from  all  his  iifs  artn,! 

"Thou  haat  made  ni  lords,  ud  Ml 

He  balf  despaini ;  i 

Vainly,  the  daniBe 

lone,  knaTe-knlghl.wentHU 

-,„  O  good  unicht-kiiaT* 
O  knaye.  as  noble  as  auy  < 

-nights— 


"No  at 


r  of  til 


inAt- 


Before  this  yoath ;  and  so  wilt  ti 

Sir  Star ; 
Alt  Ihounotold?" 

"Old,  damsel.  oMnndh 
Old,  with   tbe   ral^ht   and   broat 

d  G^ictfi,  "Ijid,  and  over-bol. 

t  that  same  strength  which  tl 
the  Momlng-Star 
Cod  throw  tbe  Eveidng." 

Then  that  other  1 
A  hard  and  deadly  note  u  uon  the  h 


Shami 
BtrikflV 


.  shame 


rlhy  ot  the  Ti 

Ills  arms  are  old,  he  trails  lbs  ki 

en'd  sllln— 
Strike— strike— the  wind  wIU  » 

clmnoo  Bgsin," 
And  Gareth  hsariug  eicr  KroD| 

Aiidbevr'dgreat  pieces  of  his  mwru 

But  lasb'il  in  Yoin  agsiosE  tl 

en'd  skin. 
And  could  not  wholly  bring  hlBiKsM 

Than  'lo^SoatLwesloms,  rolUnglM* 

Idae. 

lliat  Tides  at  na.1 


l"uilknt"^tllke,  wrilhtJ  U" 
blm.'tlli  he  fell,  dsi 


UARETII  AND  LYNETTE. 


HaraljlT  Fba  ask'il  blm,  "  Sban 


And  overtlirower  Irom   bang  V 
WlIU  AwonliiHliaTODOtttTlnui 


Of  olil  King  Lot  Biiil  goodQnecn  CetU- 


I  know  not,  all  tliro'  moro  unhappi- 
DbyI™  And  »onNSr7  and  nnliapplnoan — 


Tbj  manhood  thro'  tlint  weari 

of  UJiie. 
Won  liwt   tliou  dauo;   lur  all  ll 

■treani  li  f  red. 
And  IhDfl  haal  wieak'd  hla  JnitKe  di 


And  whan  roTiled,  hast  ansnef'd  on 

clouBly, 
And  iniikcBl  laeiry,  iflieu  oTRllirowft 


iSSbkS'" 


cint,  aud  all  aa  Elsd  to  llnd  Uigq 

whiile, 
II  thB  day  whdn  ArUiur  kHigLtod 

Jiiiu." 

in  GaiTtli,  "  Thou— Laiioelot  r— 


Tliattlirewme?    A; 

nwr  tlia  iHiast 

Thy  brethren  ot  ll 


Aud  tli  en  It  Ilea  taruiui:  to  Vrai/Ji 
!iB  tola 
Tlie  talo  of  Qarotli,  patuluitly  A 

"Ay  woll— ay  well— for  woi 

0(  olliers.l«  to  foci  oiie-a  aelf. 
■  ll  ia  batd  by,  wH 


nako  — wblcli 
1  seni'tLea  doviu  licfure  a  lesser 
med  linil  I  been  and  end—O  Lauce- 

lieVeat    the     m^den,    petulant, 

y  came  ye  not,  nlieii  call'd?  and 

IB  ye.  not  call'd?    I  gloried  In  my 

■Wlo  Iwliig  Bim  tobnkod,  would  nai 

Coorteoua  as  any  Itnlglit— but  no 

B.  and  leaves  mo  fool'd 
1. 
ring  wherefore  plny'd 

And  doubtFol  vbelliGi;  I  aud  mine  bs 

Where  abould  ba  tmth  If  not  In  Ar- 
thur's ball, 
In  Arthur's  preaenrie?  Knight,  knaye, 


e  King'ti  best  irlsb.    O  damsel, 


Thrown  have  I  heeu,  nor  oni 
TJelor  from  vuniulsli'd  Isaues  i 


Past  Into  sleep ;  on  vbom  tlia  m 
"Sound  sleep  be  Ihlne  I  soand  el 

TValio  lui 

Lin 
Aaanvm 
s  all  dsy  li 

child. 
And  vext  Ills  day.  hut  blestef  tin 

Good  lord,  bow  swoetly  Bmells  IM 

honayauckle 
In  thB  huBh'd  night,  as 

Ot  utt«r  peace,  aud  lore,  aud  gmtki- 

hei 
allm. 
knaT_ 
Is  knlabt  anil  i 

Else  yon  black  felon  hail  not  M  oh 

To  bring  ibeo  back  to  do  Ibe  buil* 

with  blm. 
Tbus  an  ihou  gocn.  ha  tilll  Ogbt  !><*■- 

VTiio  doubts  tbee  Ticli 

knlght-knave 
Miss  tbi>  (uii  flowd' of  the  aewmiilw' 


Said  I 


eelot, 


GARETU  AND  LYNETTE. 


259 


Sffay  know  my  shield.  Let  Gareth,  an 
lie  will, 

Cliange  his  for  mine,  and  take  my 
chaiger,  fresh, 

Kot  to  be  Bpiirr*d,  loving  the  battle  as 
well 

JiA  be  that  rides  him."  **  Lancelot- 
like,"  she  said, 

*'  Courteous  iu  this,  Lord  Lancelot,  as 
in  all." 

And    Gareth,    wakening,     fiercely 

clntch'd  the  shield ; 
"  Bamp,  ye  lance-splintering  lions,  on 

whom  all  speaiti 
Are  rotten  sticks!  ye  seem  agape  to 

roar! 
Xea,  ramp  and  roar  at  leaving  of  your 

lord!— 
Care  not,  good  beasts,  so  well  I  care 

you. 
O  noble  Lancelot,  from  my  hold  on 


for  you. 
ble  Lfl 
these 


Streams  virtue— Are— thro*  one  that 

will  not  shame 
Xlven  the  shadow  of  Lancelot  under 

shield. 
Hence:  let  us  go." 

Silent  the  silent  field 

They  traversed.  Arthur's  harp  thro* 
simimer-wan, 

Jn  counter  motion  to  the  clouds,  al- 
lured 

The  glance  of  Gareth  dreaming  on  his 
liege. 

Aatarshot:  "Lo,"said  Gareth,  <<the 
foe  falls !  '* 

An  owl  whoopt:  "Hark  the  victor 
pealing  there !  *' 

Suddenly  she  that  rode  upon  his  left 

Clung  to  the  shield  that  Lancelot  lent 
him,  crying, 

**  Yield,  yield  him  this  again  :  *tis  he 
must  fight : 

I  curse  the  tongue  that  all  thro*  yester- 
day 

Aeyiled  thee,  and  hath  wrought  on 
Lancelot  now 

To  lend  thee  horse  and  shield:  won- 
ders ye  have  done ; 

Miracles  ye  cannot :  here  Is  glory  enow 

In  having  fiung  the  three  :  1  see  thee 
maim'd, 

Mangled  :  I  swear  thou  canst  not  fling 
the  fourth." 

**And  wherefore,  damsel?  tell  me 
all  ye  know. 

Te  cannot  scare  me ;  nor  rough  face, 
or  voice. 

Brute  bulk  of  limb,  or  boundless  sav- 
agery 

Appall  me  from  the  quest.*' 

"  Nay,  Prince,**  she  cried, 
'*God  wot,  I  never  look*d  upon  the 

face, 
Seeing  he  never  rides  abroad  by  day ; 
Smt  watch*d  him  have  1  like  a  phau- 

tompaas 


Chilling  the  night :  nor  haTC  I  heard 
the  A'oice. 

Always  he  made  his  mouthpiece  of  a 
page 

Who  came  and  went,  and  still  rei>orted 
him 

As  closing  in  himself  the  strength  of 
ten, 

And  when  his  anger  tare  him,  massa- 
cring 

Man,  woman,  lad   and  girl— yea  the 

soft  babe- 
Some  hold  that  he  hath  swallow*d  in- 
fant flesh. 

Monster  !  O  prince,  I  went  for  Lance- 
lot first, 

The  quest  is  Lancelot*s:  give  him 
back  the  shield.'* 

Said  Gareth  laughing,  "  An  he  fight 
for  this. 
Belike  he  winn  it  as  the  better  man  : 
Thus— and  not  else '/  ** 


But  Jjancelot  on  him  urged 
All  the  devisings  of  their  chivalry 
Where   one   might  meet  a  mightier 

than  himself ; 
How  best  to  manage  horse,   lance, 

sword  and  shield, 
And  so  fill  up  the  gap  where  force 

misht  fail 
With  skill  and  fineness.    Instant  were 

his  words. 

Then  Gareth,    "Here  be  rules.    I 

know  but  one — 
To  dash  against  mine  enemy  and  to 

win. 
Yet  have  I  watch'd  thee  victor  in  the 

joust, 
And  seen  thy  way.**    "  Heaven  help 

thee,"  sigh'd  Lynette. 

Then  for  a  space,  and  under  cloud 

that  grew 
To  thunder-eloom    paling  all  stars, 

they  rode 
In  converse  till  she  made  her  palfry 

halt. 
Lifted  an  arm,  and  softly  whisper'd, 

"There." 
And  all  the  thrae  w^re  silent  seeing, 

pitch'd 
Beside  the  Castle  Perilous  on  flat  field, 
A  huge  pavilion  like  a  mountain  peak 
Sunder  the  glooming  ciimson  on  the 

marge. 
Black,  with  black  banner,  and  a  long 

black  horn 
Beside  it  hanging;  which  Sir  Gareth 

graspt. 
And  so,  before  the  two  could  hinder 

him. 
Sent  all  his  heart  and  breath  thro'  all 

the  horn. 
Echo'd  the  walls;  a  light  twinkled; 

anon 
Came  lights  and  lig,bls,  aud  on&^  icubiov 

he  blew  *. 


BC6  GERAINT 

Whereon  wera  boUow  tntmplingB  op 

And  muBled  yo\<sBS  bESril,  nnd  ehBdoRB 

Till  Ugh  ubore  him,  clri'lnd  with  her 

The  Lady  LyonoM  at  n  winrton-  eliwri, 
Beautiful  sinoug  lights,  oud  waving  lu 

"Whlta  liand».  nnd  oourtesj ;  but  wUeo 

Thrafi    UmeB    hod  lilown — nfter  long 

hnah— At  Inat — 
Tha  huie  paviliuii  Blowly  yieldad  uji, 
Ttm'  thoie  black  (oliliuE>>  that  wlilch 

bDiueil  iliereiii. 
High  oil  ■  iiighCblack  lion?,  iniiigbt- 

TTlth  whllfl   bremt-boiie,  aud  baireii 

rlba  of  Unth, 
And  crowii'd  with  fleableaa  laugbtrr— 

flome  ten  rilfip»— 
Id  Iho  halMlebt— Ibro'  tbe  dim  daviii 

-Bdvimced 
The  inoiiMer,  and  then  paueed,  and 

BntGarBtb  spake  and  all  IndlgiuinllT, 
"Ifiiol,  for  tlioa    bMl,  niei.  mj-,  Ihu 

Canat  llioa  not  tnisC  the  llmbB  thy  God 

liath  glyen, 
Butmuat,  to  make  tbe  terror  o[  Ihee 

Triek  tliy«lf  ont  in  ghnatly  In 


witU,  ni 


an  lit  I 


:?.«s"^ 


Am  iC  (or  pity?"  lint  be  apako  no 
Which  aet  the  horror  higher:  a  mDldeii 
Hie  l^y  Lyoiiora  vruug  her  Liantla  and 
A9  dooin'd  lo  be  Iho  brids  of  Xlght  and 
EIr  Qaretta'aWad  prickled  beneath  hla 
tbro'  hla  warm 
,nd  all  that  nukrk'd  bim  vere 


helm: 
i  BVii  Sir 
blood  fell 


At  or 


At  ones  tbe  blank  bona  bounded  for- 

Then  tbou  tliat  did  not  blink  iUa  ter- 

That  Deaili  wa«  eaat  lo  ground,  and 

But  vlth  one  atroke  Sir  Garetli  split 

Hie  Bkull. 
Half  fell  to  tight  and  half  to  left  and 

Then  irtlh  a  atroncec  buffet  be  clore 

■he  helm 
Aj  thniughiT  u 

(roiD  this 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 


257 


AfTfty'il  And  deek'd  her,  m  fhe  loyeliest, 
Kex%  after  her  owu  self,  in  all  the 

court. 
And  £uid  loved  the  Queen,  and  with 

true  heart 
Adorcid  her,  an  the  stateliest  and  the 

best 
Andloveliest  of  all  women  upon  earth. 
And    seeing  them  so  tender   and  so 

close, 
Ixmg  in  their  common  love  rejoiced 

Geraint. 
Bat  when  a  rumor  rose  about  the  Queei^ 
Touching  her  guilty  love  for  Lancelot, 
Tho'  yet  there  lived  no  proof,  nor  yet 

washcMnd 
The  world's   loud  whisper  breaking 

into  storm. 
Koi  less  Qeraint  believed  it ;  and  there 

fell 
A  horror  on  him,  lest  his  gentle  wife, 
Tliro'  that  great  tenderness  for  Guin- 
evere, 
Had  su£Fer'd,  or   should   suffer   any 

taint 
In  nature  :  wherefore  going  to  the 

king. 
He  made  this  pretext,  that  his  prince- 

dom  lav 
Close  on  the  borders  of  a  territory. 
Wherein  were  bandit  eails,  and  caitiff 

kniglits. 
Assassins,  and  all  fliers  from  the  hand 
Of  Justice,   and  whatever  loathes  a 

law  : 
And  tlierefore,   till  the  king  himself 

should  please 
To  cleanse  tuis  common  sewer  of  all 

his  realm, 
He  craved  a  fair  permission  to  depart. 
And  there  defend  his  marche^i ;  and 

the  kins 
Mnsed  for  a  Uttle  on  his  plea,  but,  last. 
Allowing    it,  the  Pnuce    and   Enid 

rode, 
And  fifty  knights  rode  with  them,  to 

the  shores 
Of  Severn,  and  they  past  to  their  own 

land ; 
Where,  thinking,  that  if  ever  yet  was 

wife 
True  to  her  lord,  mine  shall  be  so  to 

me, 
Hecompass*d  her  with  sweet  observ- 
ances 
And  worsliip,  never  leaving  her,  and 

grew 
Forgeuul  of  his  promise  to  the  king. 
Forgetful  of  the  falcon  and  the  hunt. 
Forgetful  of  the  tilt  and  tournament. 
Forgetful  of  his  glory  and  his  name, 
Forgetful  of  his  princedom   and  its 

cares. 
And  this  forgetfulness  was  hateful  to 

her. 
And  by  and  by  the  i>eople,  when  they 

met 
In  twos  and  threes,  or  fuller  companies, 
B«gaii  to  scoff  and  Jeer  and  babble  of 

hiin 


As  of  a  prince  whose  manhood  was  all 

gone. 
And  molten  down  in  mere  nxorionS- 

ness. 
And  this  she  gathered  from  the  people's 

eyes  : 
This  too  the  woman  who  attired  her 

head. 
To  please  her,dwelling  on  his  boundless 

love. 
Told  Enid,  and  they  sadden'dher  tho 

more : 
And  day  by  day  she  thought  to  tell 

Geraint, 
But  could  not  out  of  bashful  delicacy ; 
While  he  that  watch'd  her  sadden,  was 

the  more 
Suspicious  that  her  nature  had  a  taint. 

At  last  it  chanced  that  on  a  summer 

morn 
(They  sleeping  each  by  either)  the  new 

sun 
Beat  thro*  the  blindless  casement  of 

the  room, 
And  heated  the  strong  warrior  in  his 

dreams ; 
Who.  moving,  cast  the  coverlet  aside. 
And  bared  the  knotted  column  of  his 

throat, 
The  massive    square    of  his  heroic 

breast, 
And  arms  on  which  the  standing  mus- 
cle sloped, 
As  slopes  a  wild  brook  o'er  a  little 

stone, 
Running  too  vehemently  to  break  upon 

it. 
And  Enid  woke  and  sat  beside  the 

couch, 
Admiring  him,  and    thought  within 

herself. 
Was  ever  man  so  grandly  made  as  he  ? 
Then,  like  a  shadow,  past  the  people's 

talk 
And  accusation  of  nxoriouBnesn 
Across  her  ndnd,    and  bowing   over 

him. 
Low  to  her  own  heart  piteously  she 

said  : 

"  O  noble  breast  and    all-puissant 

arms. 
Am  I  the  cause,  I  the  poor  cause  that' 

men 
Reproach  you,  saying  all  your  force  is 

gone? 
I  am  the  cause  because  I  dare  not 

speak 
And  tell  him  what  I  think  and  whi^ 

they  say. 
And  yet  I  hate  that  he  should  linger 

here : 
I  cannot  love  my  lord  and  not  his 

name. 
Far  liever  had  I  gird  his  harness  on 

him, 
And  ride  with  him  to  battle  tad  stand 

And  watch  his  mtghtful  hand«8t||.kiu^ 
ereat  blows 


7 


CEn.ilXT  AXD  EXID. 


t  ultlffa  Uid  ftt   TTOnger 
H  botl«r'  ware  I  laid  In 


ot    the  I 
.he  ilnik 


Ami  dwlieu'il  trom  the  hlghllghl  iu  lib 
lord  tliio'  mo  Bboultl 

Ur  maybe  'p'^i'™<l  t°    death    bstore 
And  yn  not  dare  to  toll  lilm  -whit  I 

Ihlnli, 
And  liow  men  >lu[  Idm,  EaylnK  all  his 

!■  molted  Into  mere  efferalnacj  7 
Hall  InwBiiUy,  liuU    auiUlilj    ilia 


Then  Blielwtliciiiehtlierofalailcdtllk 
■    '    I"'' mantle  Hilda f«-'~'—" 

n  Blie  kept  Uiem 
-itly 
■\Vilh  BoHpi  ci  aummer  Isid  belWHi 

took   them,  and  (uraj'a  hMitll 

ItemBmberlug  when  first  he  camem 


And  all  her 
t  all  hi>i']< 


na  naked 
il  bygreai 


n  the  'WhltannUde  to 


Taller    than  all   his    fellowi,  t 


AnctKhentheQneenpeULlon'dforl 
m  the  bant.  Bllo»-d  It  cully. 


Then  tUo*  be  loved  and  x 

too  much 
To  dream  she  lonld  ho  guilty  ot  £oul 

Eight  thio'  hlB  inantul  breast  darted 

That  makea  a  man,  tu  lie 
of  her 
ni  he  love«  most,  lonely  and  nila- 

lii  Le  hiiil'd  his  hnge  Umbe  o 

bed. 
And  Bhook  bli  drowsy  nqulro  awake 

and  fried, 
"  My  cbargur  and  her  palfrey,"  then 

"  I  will  lido  forth  into  the  wlldemes) 


Ihavc 


)'  It  Be 


s  myaiiur 


ot  tsll'n  10 


3Uld 


eC  dreumii,  and  drcanihi|  of 
:-t,  and  torgetf  ul  of  thehuutt 


forded  t'rt,  mJ 

rlBlt.tWil 
1  bulUMKl 


galn'dtbe  wcod  ; 

Wsitliig  to  hear  the  houii 

A  sadden  Bonnd   of  hoofs,  tor 

Geralnt, 
Late  Hlso.  wearing  neither  UonllDI- 

BoldBU-Wl"' 

deiilf  ftBihing  Ibto'tl 

Buhlud  them,  and  bo  gallop'il 

A  purple  Bcarf.  at  either  mil  »1 
There  swung  an  apple  of  the 

Sway-d  nitiud  about  him,  u  hsfiaiw'' 

Tojolnlhem,  Glnnclne  Ilka  B  dnGXi'' 

In  eummer  Biiil  and  BllkB  ot  holUlf- . 
Low  bow'd  the  UJbuiary  Pflnw.  •". 


GERAJNT  AND  ENID. 


25S| 


Sweetly  and   Btatelily,  and  witli  all 

'  grace 
Of   womanhood  and   queeuliood,  an- 

Bwer'd  liim  : 
*<Late,    late,  Sir  Prince/'  she  said, 

**  later  than  we  !  *' 
•*  Yea,  noble   Queen,"   he  answered, 

*'  and  so  late 
That  I  but  come  like  you  to  see  the 

hunt, 
Kot  join  it.*'    "  Therefore  wait  with 

me,"  she  said  ; 
**  For  on  this  little  knoll,  if  anywhere, 
There  is  good  chance  that  we  shall 

hear  tlie  hounds : 
Here  often  they  break  covert  at  our 

feet." 

*And  while  they  listened  for  the  dis- 
tant hunt, 
And  chiefly  for  the  baying  of  Cavall, 
King  Arthur's  hound  of  deepest  mouth, 

there  rode 
Full  slowly  by  a  knight,  lady,  and 

dwarf  ; 
"Whereof  the  dwarf  lagg*d  latest,  and 

the  knight 
Had  yisor  up,  and  showM  a  youthful 

face, 
Imperious,  and  of  haughtiest  linea- 
ments. 
And  Guinevere,  not   mindful  of  his 

f  Ace 
In  the  king's  hall,  desired  his  name, 

and  sent 
Her  maiden  to  demand  it  of  the  dwarf; 
"Who  being  vicious,  old,  and  irritable. 
And  doubling  all  his  master's  vice  of 

pride, 
Made  answer  sharply  that  she  should 

not  know. 
''  Then  will  I  ask  it  of  himself,"  she 

said. 
•*  Nay,  by  my  faith,  thou  shalt  not," 

cried  the  dwarf  ; 
**  Thou  art  not  worthy  ev'n  to  speak 

of  him  ;  " 
And  when  she  put  her  horse  toward 

the  knight. 
Struck  at  her  with  his  whip,  and  she 

retum'd 
Indignant    to  the  Queen  ;     whereat 

Geralnt 
Exclaiming, '«  Surely  I  will  learn  the 

name." 
Made  sharply  to  the  dwarf,  and  ask'd 

it  of  nun. 
Who  answer'd  as  before  ;  and  when 

the  Prince 
Had  put  his  horse  in  motion  toward 

tho  knight, 
Stmck  at  him  with  his  whip,  and  cut 

his  cheek. 
The  Prince's  blood  spirted  upon  the 

scarf. 
Dyeing  it ;  and  his  quick,  instinctive 

hand 
Caught  at  the  hilt,  as  to  abolish  him  : 
But  he,  from  his  exceeding  manful- 

ness 


And  pure  nobility  of  temperament. 
Wroth  to  be  wroth  at  such  a  worm,  re* 

frain'd 
From  ev'n  a  word,  and  so  returning 

said : 

*'l  will  avenge  this  insult,  noble 

Queen, 
Done  In  your  maiden's  person  to  your^ 

self  : 
And  I  will  track  this  vermin  to  their 

earths  : 
For  tho'  I  ride  nnarm'd,  I  do  not  doubt 
To  find,  at  some  place  I  shall  come  at» 

arms 
On  loan,  or  else  for  pledge  ;  and,  being 

found. 
Then  will  I  fight  him,  and  will  "break 

his  pride, 
And  on  the  third  day,  will  again  bo 

here, 
So  that  I  be  not  fall'n  in  fight.    Fare- 
well." 

'*  Farewell,  fair  Prince,"  answer'd 

the  stately  Queen. 
"  Be  prosperous  in  this  journey,  as  in 

all  ; 
And  may  ye  light  on  all  things  that  yo 

love, 
And  live  to  wed  with  her  whom  first  ye 

love  : 
But  ere  ye  wed  with  any,  bring  your 

bride. 
And  I,  were  she  the  daughter  of  a  king. 
Yea,  tho*  she  were  a  beggar  from  the 

hedge. 
Will  clothe  her  for  her  bridals  like  the 


>» 


sun. 

And  Prince  Geraint,  now  thinking 

that  he  heard 
The  noble  hart  at  bay,  now  the  far 

horn, 
A  little  vext  at  losing  of  tho  hunt, 
A  little  at  the  vile  occasion,  rode, 
By  ups  and  downs,  thro'  many  a  grassy 

glade 
And  valley,  with  flxt  eye  following  the 

three. 
At  last  they  issued  from  the  world  of 

wood. 
And  climb'd    upon  a  fair  and  even 

ridge, 
And   show'd  themselves  ag.iinst  the 

sky,  and  sank. 
And  tliither  came  Geralnt,  and  under-^ 

neath 
Beheld  tho  long  street  of  a  little  town 
In  a  long  valley,  on  one  pide  whereof, 
"White  from  the  mason's  hand,  a  fort- 
ress rose  ; 
And  on  one  side  a  castle  in  decay. 
Beyond  a  bridge  that  spann'd  a  dry 

ravine  : 
And  out  of  town  and  valley  came  a 

noise 
As  of  a  broad  brook  o'er  a  shingly  bed 
Brawling,  or  like  a  clamor  of  the  rooks 
At  distance,  ere  they  settle  for  tho 

night. 


GEItXINT  AND  ENID. 


And  onvard  to  Uio  fortreH 

Uiree, 
And  eiiur'd,  and  irero  loal  bsl 

walls. 
■■So,"     tliought    Oflminb,    ■' 

trackMEtmlolilBenrHi. 

VdUnd  every  luwtal  fall,  uii 

Wu  LamiiMSr  laid  to  hoof,  and 

bin 
And  buMHna  whlillo  of  tlie  70 

Hii  muiier's  armor ;  anii  nfsa 
Us  nik'd,  '•  VI  luu  memiii  tho  U 

WIiD  told    Iiiiu,  ■oouriiig   all] 

■parnw-liawk  I  " 
Then  riding  cloae  beliliid  an 

■Wlio,  BmilUn  by  the    duety 

Vent  ane&tlng  undemDnlh  a 

Ack'd  TBt  once  tnore  nbat  mi 
hubbub  here  ? 

■Whoaiiiwer'dBrufllj,"CEhl  1 


liiiff  furtberrmBtanarmorei 
th  back  tuni'U.  aud  bow'd  abt 


It  the 


Kol  turning  round,  not-  looklug  at  b 
"Friend,  he  that  labon  for  the  ■( 
(TBI  little  tloig  for  tdlaqaeBltonnnt. 


and  pipe  eii 


ir  of  the  t 


■ing'd  nolliinff 


'    What  ia  It 


'Who  nlpe  of  I 

Spoal.lf  yetiB 
mad. 


}thlng  b 


e  hBcbDrago  for  the 
arms   to  Qght  my 


e  (orwonlwlili  Uie  helniet 
hand 

anaver'd,  "Pardon  me,  0 
ger  knight : 


AniiB?  tmthi  I  knnv  net:  all  it 

Hacborago  ?  truth',  gnod  Iruli,  I  knni 

It  moy  be.  at 'Earl  TBior«,  o'tr  111 

Yonder."    He  spokB  and  f ol!  10  irorl 

Then  rode  Geralnt,  a  UttleiplMntu 

Across  tbo  bridge  Oiatspaan'd  Iheiliy 

There  muBliig  snt  the  hwuT-liooafil 

(His  drcBB'  a  anit  of  frajM  magnlB- 

Onoe  fit  for  feaalB  of  ceromonj)  iqil 

"Whither,'  fair  son?"  to  whom  flt 

"  O  Iriand.  I^seek  a  hnrbomgB  fwlln 

ThenYnioI,  "  Enter  tlierefon  and  t«^ 

Tlie  Blender  entertainment  of  abnini 
Oiico  rieh,  now  iioor,  but  efer  Oj»n- 

"  Thanks,  vonerabla  friend,"  lepllol 


WlUiAMlhei 
Then   algh'd  ai 


headed  Ear] , 


'Oravcr  cauie  IMH 

To  enrse  this  hedgerow  thlaf,  the  ip»f 

Bnttn.  go  In-  foraars  TouneltiledK* 

it. 
■Wowlllnnt  tODch  npon  him  m'n    ' 

Then  rede  Geralnt  Into  the  cw' 

His  charger  trampling  many  a  pricW* 

Of  spmntcd  thistle   on   tho  brolEf 

He  livik'd  and  saw  that  all  va*  ro^ 

Here  stood  adiatlet'd  nrvliiray  p]an~^ 

And  bote  liad  (alrn  a  great  part  u;^ 

■Whole,  llke'a  crag  tliat  tumblusfr.— 

And  like  a  crag  «aa  gay  nith  wildtf 

And  high  above  a  pEcre  of  (arret ttt^M 

W-morroff      Claapt   ihe    gray   valla   iPilh    hatf 
icantly  time  tor  half  Ihe  [  And  snek'd  t)ie  jidnfng  of  the  lUK^^ 


GERAINT  AND  ENID, 


261 


A  knot,  beneath  f  of  snakes,  aloft,  a 
grove. 

And  while  he  W2iited  in  the  castle 

court, 
The  Toice  of  Enid,  YnioPs  daughter, 

rang: 
Clear  thro*  the  open  casement  of  the 

Hall, 
Singing ;  and  as  the  sweet  Toice  of  a 


bird. 


Heard  by  the  lander  in  a  lonely  isle, 
Moves  him  to  think  what  kind  of  bird 

it  is 
That  sings  so  delicately  clear,  and 

make 
Conjecture  of  the  plumage  and  the 

form; 
80  the  sweet  voice  of  Enid  moved  Ge- 

raint ; 
And  made  him  like  a  man  abroad  at 

mom 
When  first  the  liquid  note  beloved  of 

men 
Comes  flying  over  many  a  windy  wave 
To  Britain,  and  in  April  suddenly 
Breaks  from  a  coppice  gemm'd  with 

green  and  red, 
And  he  suspends  his  converse  with  a 

friend. 
Or  it  may  be  the  labor  of  his  hands. 
To  think  or  say,  **  there  is  the  nightin- 
gale ; " 
So  fared  it  with  Geraint,  who  thought 

and  said, 
**  Here,  by  God's  grace,  is  the  one  voice 

for  me." 

It  chanced  the  song  that  Enid  sang 
was  one 
Of  Fortune  and  her  wheel,  and  Enid 
sang: 

**  Turn,  Fortune,  turn  thy  wheel  and 

lower  the  proud ; 
Turn  thy  wild  wheel  thro*  sunshine, 

storm,  and  cloud ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love 

nor  hate. 

«*  Turn,  Fortune,  turn  thy  wheel  with 

smile  or  frown; 
With  that  wild  wheel  we  go  not  up  or 

down  ; 
Our  hoard  is  little,  but  our  hearts  are 

great. 

*<  Smile  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of 

manv  lands ; 
Frown  ana  we  smile,  the  lords  of  our 

own  hands ; 
For  man  is  man  and  master  of  his  fate. 

'•Turn  turn   thy  wheel   above  the 

staring  crowd ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thou  are  shadows  in  the 

cloud  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  neither  love 

nor  hate.*' 

•*  Hark,  by  the  bird's  song  you  may 
learn  the  nest" 


Said  Yniol ;  **  Enter  quickly."    Entei^ 

ing  then. 
Right  o^er  a  mount  of  newly-fallen 

stones. 
The    dusky  rafter'd    many-cobwcb*d 

Hall. 
He  found  an  ancient  dame  in  dim  bro- 
cade ; 
And  near  her,  like  a  blossom  vermeil 

white. 
That  lightly  breaks  a  faded  flower 

sheath. 
Moved  the  fair  Enid,  all  in  fade<l  silk. 
Her  daughter.    In  a  moment  thought 

Geraint, 
"  Here  by  God's  rood  is  the  one  maid 

for  me." 
But  none  spake  word  except  the  hoary 

Earl  : 
*'  Enid,  the  good  knight's  horse  stands 

in  the  court ; 
Take  him  to  stall,  and  give  him  com, 

and  then 
Go  to  the  town  and  buy  us  flesh  and 

wine ; 
And  we  will  make  us  merry  as  we  may. 
Our  hoard  is  little,  but  our  hearts  are 

great." 

He  spake :  the  Prince,  as  Enid  past 

him,  fain 
To  follow,  strode  a  stride,  but  Tniol 

caught 
His  purple  scarf,  and  held,  and  said 

"  Forbear ! 
Rest !  the  good  house,  tho*  ruin'd,  O 

my  Son, 
Endures  not  that  her  guest  should 

serve  himself." 
And  reverencing  the   custom  of  the 

house 
Geraint,  from  utter  courtesy,  forbore. 

So  Enid  took  his  charger  to  the  stall ; 
And  after  went  her  way  across  the 

bridge. 
And  reach'd  the  t6wn,  and  while  the 

Prince  and  Earl 
Tet  spoke  together,  came  again  with 

one, 
A  youth,  that  following  with  a  costrel 

bore 
The  means  of  goodly  welcome,  flesh 

and  wine. 
And  Enid  brought  sweet  cakes  to  make 

them  cheer. 
And  in  her  veil  enfolded,  manchet 

bread. 
And  then,  because  their  hall  must  also 

serve 
For  kitchen,  boil'd  the  flesh,  and  spread 

the  board. 
And  stood  behind,  and  waited  on  th« 

three. 
And  seeing  her  so  sweet  and  seivice- 

able, 
Geraint  had  longing  in  him  evermore 
To  stoop  and  kiss  the  tender  little 

thumb. 
That  crost  tno  trencher  as  she  laid  il ' 

down : 


\ 


OERAINT  AND  ENID, 


i&i 


tn  next  day's  tonmey  I  may  break  his 
j)ride." 

And  Yniol  answer*d  "Arms,  indeed^ 
but  old 

And  rusty,  old  and  rusty,  Prince  Qe- 
raint, 

Are  mine,  and  therefore  at  your  ask- 
ing, yours.       • 

But  in  this  tournament  can  no  man 
Ult, 

Except  the  lady  he  loves  best  be  there. 

Two  forks  are  tixt  into  the  meadow 
ground, 

And  over  these  is  laid  a  silver  wand,. 

And  over  that  is  placed  the  sparrow- 
hawk, 

The  prize  of  beauty  for  the  fairest 
tliere. 

And  thi9,  what  knight  soever  be  in 
field 

Lays  claim  to  for  the  lady  at  his  side. 

And  tilts  wilh  my  good  nephew  there- 
ui)on, 

Who  being  apt  at  arms  and  big  of  bone 

Has  ever  won  it  for  the  lady  with  him. 

And  toppling  over  all  antagonism 

Has  eam'd  himself  the  name  of  spar- 
row-hawk. 

But  you,  that  have  no  lady,  cannot 
flght.^' 


»» 


To  whom  Oeraint  with  eyes  all  bright 

replied, 
Leaning  a  little  toward  him,  <*Your 

leave ! 
Let  me  lay  lance  in  rest,  O  noble  host, 
For  this  dear  child,  because  I  never 

saw, 
Tho'  having  seen  all  beauties  of  our 

time, 
Kor  can   s^e  elsewhere,  anything  so 

fair. 
And  if  I  fall  her  name  will  yet  remain 
Untarnished  as  before ;  but  if  I  live, 
So  aid  me  Heaven  when  at  mine  utter- 
most, 
As  I  will  make  her  truly  my  true 

wife." 

'  Then,  howsoever  patient,  Yniol*s 
heart 

Danced  in  his  bosom,  seeing  better 
days. 

And  looking  round  he  saw  not  Enid 
there,  , 

(Who  hearing  her  own  name  had  slipt 
away) 

But  that  old  dame,  to  whom  full  ten- 
derly 

And  fondling  all  her  hand  in  his  he 
said, 

*'  Mother,  a  maiden  is  a  tender  thing. 

And  best  by  her  that  bore  her  under- 
stood. 

Go  thou  to  rest,  but  ere  thou  go  to  rest 

Tell  her,  and  prove  her  heart  toward 
the  Prince." 

So  spake  the  kindly-hearted  Earl, 
and  she 


With  frequent  smile  and  nod  departing 

found. 
Half  disarray'd  as  to  her  rest,  the  girl ; 
Whom  first  she  kiss'd  on  either  cheek* 

aud  then 
On  either  shining  shoulder  laid  a  hand. 
And  kept  her  on  and  gazed  upon  her 

face. 
And  told  her  all  their  converse  in  the 

hall. 
Proving  her  heart :  but  never  light  and 

shade 
Coursed  one  another  more  on  open 

ground 
Beneath  a  troubled  heaven,  than  red 

and  pale 
Across  the  face  of  Enid  hearing  her ; 
While  slowly  falling  as  a  scale  tliat 

falls. 
When  weight  is  added  only  grain  by 

grain. 
Sank  iier  sweet  head  upon  her  gentle 

breast ; 
Nor  did  she  lift  an  eye  nor  speak  a 

word, 
Kapt  in  the  fear  and  in  the  wonder  of 

it; 
So  moving  without  answer  to  her  rest 
She  found  no  rest,  and  ever  fail'dto 

draw 
The  quiet  night  into  her  blood,  but  lay 
Contemplating  her  own  unworthiness; 
And  when  the  pale  and  bloodless  east . 

began 
To  quicken  to  the  sun,  arose,  and 

raised 
Her  mother  too,  and  hand  in  hand  they 

moved 
Down  to  the  meadow  where  the  jousts 

were  held, 
And  waited  there  for  Yniol  and  Ge- 

raint. 

And  thither  came   the  twain,  and 

when  Geraint 
Beheld  her  first  in  field,  nwaitinc  him,^ 
He  felt,  were  she  the  prize  of  bodily 

force, 
Himself  beyond  the  rest  pushing  could 

move 
The  chair  of  Idris.  Yniol's  rusted  arms 
Were  on  his  princely  pereou,  but  thi-o* " 

these 
Princelike  his  bearing,  shone  ;  and  ci> 

rant  knights 
And  ladies  came,  and  by  and  by  the 

town 
Flowed  in,  and  settling  circled  all  the 

lists. 
And  there  they  flxt  the  forks  into  the 

ground, 
And  over  these  they  placed  a  silver 

wand 
And  over  that  a  golden  sparrow-hawk. 
Then  Yniol's  nephew,  after  trumpet 

blown, 
Spake  to  the  lady  with  him  and  pro- 

claim'd. 
"  Advance  and  take  as  fairest  of  tha 

fair. 


T 


V 


284  GERAINT 

Tot  I  these  two  yean  pail  Lavo  nou  it 
The  iHiiB  ot  beauty."    Loudly  apako 

"Forbew:  Oieri  ia  a  notthler,"  ami 

tbe  ItnlgliC 
TTlth  Boine  BDrpHse  and  thrico  as  much 

diadajii 
Tam'd.  Biiiil  beheld  the  four,  and  all 

hlB  face 
Olow'd  likB  the  heart  of  a.  aroBt  flio  iit 

Yule, 
So  bamt  be  iraa  with  paHlon  .piling  ont. 
'' l>u  battle  fur  It  Ihiiii/'uomurei  aud 

They  elaali'd  together,  and  tbrica  Ihoy 

Then   each,    lishoned  nud  drawing, 

laab'd  at  each 
So  often  and  wllh  suck  blows,  lliat  all 

Wonder'd,  >nd  now  and  then  from  dia- 

There  came  a  clapping  aa  of  phantom 

So  twice  they  fonght,  and  twice  they 

breathed,  and  all  11 
Ths  dew  of  their  great  labor,  and  the 

blood 
or  their  Btrong  bodiea,  flowing,  dmin'd 

But  elther'a    fu'rce  waa  luatch'J  till 

Inlora  cry. 
"  Itemember  tliat  great  Inault  done  the 


blade 


Lloft, 


3  heav 


helmet  Uico',  and  bit 

And  tell'd  him,  and  aet  foot  upon  hie 

And  Bald,  "iliy name?"  To  whom  the 

Made  anawer,  grasDing,  "Edyru,  aon 

Aabamed  am  I  that  I  aliould  tell  It 

MyprldelabKAen!  moDbsTeaeenmy 

"Then,  EJyni,  aon  of  Nnild,"  replied 

"Theae  two  Ihlnn  ahalt  thou  do,  or 

clue  thou  dieet. 
Flnt,  thou  Ihyaelt,  thy  lady,  and  tby 

Shalt  ride  lo  Arthur's  court.and  being 


Andaliallsbldo  her  Judgment, on  it; 

Thou  ahalt  glTe  back  their  earldom  lo 

thy  LTn. 
Tbne  two  tliinEa  ahalt  thou  do, or  Iboa 

ahalt  die  >■ 
And  Edrm  anawer'd,  "These  things 

will  I  do. 
Fori  liavc  never  yet  been  OTerlhrown, 
And  Lbou  liaal  otenhrowu  me,  uid  my 


AND  ENID. 

And   rising 

wn.forl 
up,  he 

:nlit>ee> 

rode  t 

o^ii&ul-i 

And   there 
easUy 

Hisorimeo 

the  Qb 

trattpr 

cen   fo 
slowly 

rgara    him 
nged.   and 
drewUm- 

Bright  f.om 

hia  old  dark  life,  aud  fell 

m  tbe.grea 

t  batll 

fIghCi 

E  for  Uw 

But  when  the  third  day  rroiu  Um 

Made  a  low  splendor  in  the  world,  and 

Morerill^er  ivy,  Enid,  for  fhe  lay 
WItJi  her  fair  head  in  the  dlm-yiillaw 

light, 
AmoniE  the  dancIniF  ahadowa  of  the 

Birds, 
Woke  snil  lielhought  her  of  ber  prom- 
No  later  than  loat  ore  to  PiliieD  Q*- 
So  bent  be  aeem'd  on  going  tba  Ibiid 
Ho  wouhl  not  leave  her,  llll  lior  prom- 
Ta  lide  witii  him  thla  morning  to  iIm 


LtelyOUEfli 


And 

And  there' 

At  tbis  she  casl 

And  ttougtt  it 


laile   known   1 


lh«^ 


For  08  aleaf  in  mid-XoTamber  la 
Td  nhnt  it  wan  In  nilitOrtober,  aei 
Tbo  drcBB  that  now  abe  look'd  o 

She  look'ilon  ere  tbo  coming  oE 


ange  bright  and  dreadful 


]  softly  to  ht 
aaitl: 


''This  noble  princa  who  mui  ow 
^a  aplendld  in  hia  acta  and  his  atUra. 


Bnt  being  ao  beluilden  to  the  Prince, 
H  wore  but  little  grace  in  any  of  ua. 
Bant  as  he  leem'd  on  going  tUi  lUld 

Myaolf  would  work  eyo  dim,  asd  Sir 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 


M 


JTar  liefef  than  so   much  discredit 
him." 

And  Enid  fell  in  longing  for  a  dress 
All  brancli*d  and  flowered  with  gold>  a 

costly  gift 
Of  her  good  mother,  given  her  on  the 

night 
Before  her  birthdaji  three  sad  years 


ago, 
Tdahi 


That  nigbt  of  fire,  when  Edym  sack'd 

their  house, 
And  scattered  all  they  had  to  all  the 

winds: 
For  while  the  mother  show'd  it,  and 

the  two 
Were  turning  and  admiring  it,  the  work 
To  both  appeared  so  costly,  rose  a  cry 
That  Edym's  men  were  on  them,  and 

they  fled 
With  little  save  the  jewels  they  had  on, 
"Which  beinff  sold  and  sold  had  bought 

them  bread : 
And  Edym's  men  had  caught  them  in 

their  flight. 
And  placed  them  in  this  ruin;  and 

she  wish'd 
The  Prince  had  found  her  in  her  an- 
cient home ; 
Then  let  her  fancy  flit  across  the  post, 
And  roam  the  goodly  places  that  she 

knew ; 
And  last  bethought  her  how  she  used 

to  watch, 
Near  that  old  home,  a  pool  of  golden 

carp; 
And  one  was  patched  and  blurr'd  and 

lustreless 
Among  his  burnish'd  brethren  of  the 

pool ; 
And  half  asleep  she  made  comparison 
Of  that  and  these  to  her  own  faded 

self 
And  the  gay  court,  and  fell   asleep 

again ; 
And  dreamt  herself  was  such  a  faded 

form 
Among  her  bumish'd  sisters  of  the 

I>ool ; 
Bat  this  was  in  the  garden  of  a  king ; 
And  tho*  she  lay  dark  in  the  pool,  she 

knew 
That  all  was  bright ;  that  all  about 

were  birds 
Of    sunny   plume   in   gilded  trellis- 
work  ; 
That  all  the  turf  was  rich  in  plots  that 

looked 
Each  like  a  garnet  or  a  turkis  in  it ; 
A»d  lords  and  ladies  of  the  high  court 

went 
In  silver  tissue  talking  thines  of  state; 
And  children  of  the  king  m  cloth  of 

gold 
Glanced  at  the  doors  or  gambol'd  down 

the  walks ; 
And  while  she  thought  **  they  will  not 

see  me,"  came 
A  statelv  queen  whose    name  was 

Gumevere» 


And  all  the  children  in  their  cloth  of 

gold 
Ban  to  her,  crying,  **  if  we  have  fish  at 

all 
Let  th^m  be  gold ;  and  charge  the  gar* 

deners  now 
To  pick  the  faded  creature  from  the 

pool. 
And  cast  it  on  the  mixen  that  it  die." 
And  therewithal  one  came  and  seized 

on  her, 
And  Enid  started  waking,  with  her 

heart 
All  overshadowed  by  the  foolish  dream. 
And  lo !  it  was  her  mother  grasping 

her 
To  get  her  well  awake ;  and  in  her 

hand 
A  suit  of  bright  apparel,  which  sha 

laid 
Flat  on  the  couch,  and  spoke  exult- 

ingly  ; 

"  See  here,  my  child,  how  fresh  the 

colors  look, 
How  fast  they  hold  like  colors  of  a 

shell 
That  keeps  the  wear  and  polish  of  the 

wave. 
Why  not?  it  never  yet  was  worn,  I 

trow: 
Look  on  it,  child,  and  tell  me  if  ye 

know  it." 

And  Enid  look*d,  but  all  confused  at 

first. 
Could  scarce  divide  it  from  her  foolish 

dream : 
Then  suddenly  she  knew  it  and  re- 
joiced. 
And  answerM,  '*  Yea,  I  know  it ;  your 

good  gift. 
So  sadly  lost  on  that  unhappy  night ; 
Your  own  good  gift ! "  **  Yea,  surely," 

said  the  dame, 
"And  gladly  given  again  this  happy 

mom. 
For  when  the  jousts  were  ended  yes- 
terday, 
Went  Yniol  thro*  the  town,  and  every 

where 
He  found  the  sack  and  plunder  of  our 

house 
All  scattered  thro'  the  houses  of  the 

town; 
And  gave   command  that  all  which 

once  was  ours, 
Should  now  be  ours  again  :  and  yester> 

eve. 
While  you  were  talking  sweetly  with 

your  Prince 
Came  one  with  this  and  laid  it  in  my 

hand, 
For  love  or  fear,  or  seeking  favor  of  U8| 
Because  we  have  our  earldom  back 

again. 
And  yester-eve  I  would  not  tell  you  of 

it. 
But  kept  it  for  a  sweet  surpri^  «l 
mom* 


Yetn  tnilTl*  It  not  mveet  BUTprlse? 
For  I  mynBlf  usiwlllluglr  liare  worn 
Uf  Imlwl  suit,  as  you,  my  chili,  Iibti 


WlUi  •loio  of  ridi  appttril,  aumptuoiw 

And  page,  and  maid,  and  squire,  luid 

PDBlime  bolh  ot  lui«k  uid  bouud, 
and  all 

anil  liu  biought  ms  to  a  goodly 

But  Bliicu  our  loituno  silub  tiom  bud  to 

*bBde, 
And  all  tliro'  that  young  traitor, 


»d 


tr  tliDi 


tlotlie  yuuraeU  In  this,  that  botl« 
flta 

Oar  mended  fortuuoa  and  a  Prince' 
brido: 
Uio'  ye  won  the  prize  ot  tolrei 

And  Uio'  I  heard  !''"■  cull  you  Eaire; 


Letnc 


fair, 


aalden  tl 


Sbel.  noCfaiiei 

old. 

id  should  * 


!r  fair. 


like  »  DUidmaii  brought  her  to  Ihi 

Then  were  ye  shamed,  and,  irorsc 
migiit  ahama  tlio  Priiico 

To  whaui  va  Bn  beboldeu  ;  but 
know, 

■Wlian  107  "^ar  child  is  set  forth  at  he 

TliBl  nti^er  court  nor  country,  Iht 

Uiey  Bouglit 
Thro'  all  tho  proylnces  like  those  c 

old 
ThatllEhtod  on  Quean  Estlicr,  liasht 

Hera  coaaad  the  kindly  mother  oi 
of  hrealli ; 
And  Enid  lieteu'd  brightening  aa  el 

Then,  at  Uie  nblts  and  glittering  sti 

PuU  from  a  bank  ot  enow,  and  by  at 

Slips  Into  golden  cloud,  the  mald< 

Aadlelt  ' 


AND  ENID. 

sTer  yet  had  seen  her  half  M 

iiir: 

dl'd  her  like  Uiat  maiden  in  the 

Gwydlrm  made  by  glamotu  oot 

than  the  bride  of  CbssI- 

"'  tirst" 
iJiTBded  Britain,  ["  but  wa  beat  him 

Aa  this  great  prince  iDvaded  ni,  uid 

Not  beat  liim  back,  hnt  vrelcomed  hini 

And  1  can  acarcBly  ride  with  jou  lo 

Foroldnni'l,  and  roueb  the  irayiaod 

But  Yniol'goeB,  and  I  foil  ott  shall 

Clolheif  with  ray  gift,  aud  (jayainom 

But  while  Ilia  irosien  thni  reJoicoJ. 

Wol!o  Vfliero  he  alapt  in  Ilia  blgh  liall, 

For  Enid,  aud  when  Ytiiol  made  n- 

Of  that  good  motlier  maktoB  Enid  ny 
In  Bueh  apparel  as  mlaht  w3l  boeciii 
UlB   prlnccBB,  or   Iniged    the  atstely 


Yido 

with  liat  hard 

memgewenliit 

Like 

flaws   in    summer   layln|j  Iialy 

For 
But 

Enid  all  Bbash'd  she  knew  nol 
why, 
■d  net    to    glaueo    at  b«T  p*^ 

mother'"  fttce- 

iDotlicr  silent  loo,  iiochdplnalieT, 

And 

roWd^lH™.  In 

And  BO  dcBCended. 
MoregVraint 
And  gUnelng  all  at 

Kaycr  num  rc- 
o  cract  bcr  tbt:> 
once  laJaaJjU 

wlf. 


3elp'd  to  the  mother's 

— "Jiout  ,a  mirror.   In   the  cergooi 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 


267 


^  O  TOT  new  mother,  be  not  wroth  or 

giieved 
At  your  new  son,  for  my  petition  to 

her. 
"When  late  I  left  Caerleon,  our  great 

Queen, 
Xu  words  whose  echo  lasts,  they  were 

so  sweet, 
Made  promise,  that  whatever  bride  I 

brought. 
Herself  would  clothe  her  like  the  sun 

in  Heaven. 
Thereafter,  when  I  reach'd  this  roln'd 

hold. 
Beholding  one  so  bright  in  dork  estate. 
1  vow*d  that  could  1  gain  her,  our  kind 

Queen, 
I^o  hand  but  hers,  should  make  your 

Enid  burst 
Sunlike  from    cloud  —  and  likewise 

thought  perhaps, 
That  service  done  so  graciously  would 

bind 
The  two  together  ;  for  I  wish  the  two 
To  love  each  other  :  how  should  Enid 

find 
A  nobler  friend  ?    Another  thought  I 

had; 
I  came  among  yon  here  so  suddenly, 
That  tho*  her  gentle  presence  at  the 

lists 
Might  well  have  served  for  proof  that 

I  was  loved, 
I  doubted  whether  filial  tenderness, 
Or  easy  nature,  did  not  let  itself 
"Be  moulded  by  your  wishes  for  her 

weal; 
Or  whether  some  false  sense  in  her  own 

self 
Of  my  contrasting  brightness,  over- 
bore 
Her  fancy  dwelling  in  this  dusky  hall; 
And  such  a  sense  might  make  her  long 

for  court 
And  all  its  cUuigerous  glories :  and  I 

thought. 
That  could  I  someway  prove  such  force 

in  her 
link'd  with  such  love  for  me,  that  at 

a  word 
(No  reason  given  her)  she  could  cast 

aside 
A  splendor  dear  to  women,  new  to  her, 
And  therefore  dearer  j   or  if  not  so 

new, 
Tet  therefore  tenfold  dearer  by  the 

power 
Of  intermitted  custom ;  then  I  felt 
Ihat  I  could  rest,  u  rock  in  ebbs  and 

flows, 
Fixt  on  her  faith.    Now,  therefore,  I 

do  rest, 
jL  prophet  certain  of  my  prophecy, 
That  never  shadow  ox  mistrust  can 

cross 
Between  us.    Grant  me  pardon  for  my 

thoughts : 
And  for  my  strange  petition  I  will 

make 
Amends  herextf  ter  by  some  randy-day. 


When  your  fair  child  shall  wear  you 

costly  gift 
Beside  your  own  warm  hearth,  with. 

on  her  knees. 
Who  knows  ?  another  gift  of  the  high 

God, 
Which,  maybe,  shall  have  leam*d  to 

lisp  you  thanks." 

He  spoke  :  the  mother  smiled,  but 

half  in  tears. 
Then  brought  a  mantle  down    and 

wrapt  ner  in  it. 
And  claspt  and  kiss*d  her,  and  they 

rode  away. 

Kow  thrice  that  morning  Guinevere 

had  climbed 
The  giant  tower,  from  whose  high 

crest,  they  say. 
Men  saw  the  goodly  hills  of  Somerset, 
And  white  sails  flying  on  the  yellow 

sea; 
But  not  to  goodly  hill  or  yellow  sea 
Looked  the  tair  Queen,  but  up  the  vale 

of  Usk, 
By  the  flat  meadow,  till  she  saw  them 

come ; 
And  then  descending  met  them  at  the 

gates. 
Embraced  her  with  all  welcome  as  a 

friend. 
And  did  her  honor  as  the  Prince'i 

bride. 
And  clothed  her  for  her  bridals  like 

the  sun ; 
And  all  that  week  was  old  Caerleon. 

gay, 

For  by  the  hands  of  Dubric,  the  high, 
saint, 

They  twain  were  wedded  with  all  cere- 
mony. 

And  this  was  on  the  last  year's  Whit- 
suntide. 

But  Enid  ever  kept  the  faded  silk, 

liemembering  how  flrst  he  came  on. 
her, 

Brest  in  that  dress,  and  how  he  loved 
her  in  it. 

And  all  her  foolish  fears  about  the 
dress. 

And  all  his  journey  toward  her,  as 
himself 

Had  told  her,  and  their  coming  to  the 
court. 

And  now  this  morning  when  he  said 
to  her, 

"Put  on  your  worst  and  meanest 
dress,^*  she  found 

And  took  it,  and  array 'd  herself  there- 
in. 

O  purblind  race  of  miserable  men. 
How  many  among  us  at  this  very  hour 
Do  forge  a  life-long  trouble  fur  our- 
selves, 
By  taking  true  for  false,  or  false  for 
true; 


V 


268  CERAINT 

Here,  ttim'  IbBfwblB  tnlllglit  of  tbli 
Groping.  liD*  miuij,  ontll  ne  poii  uiiJ 
Tbat  ntlinr,  wb«re  ve  see  u  ns  sre 

Sofnrsllltwlthaer^nl,  wlioiHulns 
That  niornliig,  when  thej  both  lind  got 
PertuipH  because  lie  loved  her  putalon- 
MA  feltlW  tempcitbroodiiiErouiid 
^VUtvh,  If  lie  apokfl  nt  nil,  would  break 
Vpoii^biwd  ID  demr  In  thuuder,  bdM  : 

V.iot  a  good  (rar  on  before :  ind  this 
1  clisrge  you,  on  your  duty  lU  a  vrite, 
WliAIcvor  bappena,  noC  lo  Bpcali  to 


So.   li 


Tord  1  " 


i:iild  V 


■Wbon  crying  out  "  Eflomlimto  ss  r  ■m, 
1  will  not  iTghC  my  way  wlUi  gllileil 

Allsball  belron  ;"  lie  lonaedouilgbty 

Rung  at  Ills  belt,  and  hurl'd  It  ton-nnl 

d  lirul  n(  bnma 
bold  tliuliiug, 


le  laatslgbtth 


Waaal 

TIUi  sold  and  acatler'd  coinage,  and 

ChaQug  hli  slioulder :   then  bo  cried 

"Tolbe  wilds:"    and  Enid  leading 

down  Uie  tmekn 
Tbro'  which  be  bode  her  lead  blm  on, 

Tlia  mareliei,  and  by  baudll-liaunled 

holds, 
Qray  awanipa  and  pools,  waste  plac 


-  'on:;-!.™  "^ 

And  wIldornDitMB,  peril 

u,pat 

^,they 

Round  was    1 

eir  pace 

at  Diat,  liut 

oting  tb 
owly  and 

mbad 
Ihcyl 

purely 
cDCdlng 

Forbowaa^cTB 

r  laying 

oWm 

elf 

0 1  lliat  waited  tl 


To  dress  her  beautifully  ai 
And  there  he  broke  the  aei 


AND  EXiD. 

May  break  It,  when  bis  paolon  inu 

And  i^be  waB  etct  praying  tbfl  £' 

To  aare  her  dear  lonl  whole  Irom 

And  eter  Iti  bermhid  she  aut  » 

Whlcb  made  blm  look  ki  cbjodj  uii 

BO  cidd  ; 
Till  the  great  plOTer'a  bunsn  vldiili 

Her  heart,  and  glancing  roujid 

Id  erery  wavertiig  brake  an  bdI 

Then  thought  aBnln"It  there  be  lUck 

I  ml^t  nniend    it  by  the  gno 

II  be  would  only  ipenk  and  tellm 

Bnl  wben  the  fourth  part  gf  ike  day 
Thoa  Exiid  was  aware  of  Ibrw  Olt 
pn  LoracGock,  wholly  arm'd,  beUul 
In  shadow,  waiting  for  lhein,<(UII[ 

And  beard 

■      ■*. 

Wlio  seems  no  bubler  thai 

houud ; 
Come,  we  will  slay  blm  and  trin  tii» 


Then    Enid  ponder'd  in  btrkuiV 
and  Bald  : 
"  I  will  go  back  a  little  to  my  loni. 
Aud  I  will  tell  him  all  thdr  ai 

lalki 
For,  ba  lie  wiwUi  even  to  slaybignft 
Far  llevcr  by  his  dear  bniul  lisd  1  <B& 
Thau  that  my  lord  shoul  ■  ■-"-'—■' 
fhama> 
Then  she  went  back 

Met  bi>  full  frown  timidly  Brni,«a4 

enid: 
"My  lord,  I  law  three  bandlu 

IVaitins  to  fall  on  you,  and  beard  IM" 

That  they  wonld  slay  you,  and  pou"" 

And  aroior,  and  jour  damsel  nhouWl" 

theln." 
□e  made  a  n-rnihlul 

wish 
Yont  wamlnir  ot  joi 
I  laid  upon  you,  not  lo  rpeak ; 


d 


n  keep  It 


WcU  v 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 


269 


Whether  j<m  wiiai  meTictory  or  de- 
feat, 

Long  for  my  life,  or  hunger  for  my 
death. 

ITourself  raiaU  see  my  Tigor  is  not 
lost." 

Then  Enid  waited  Mle  and  sorrow- 
ful, 
And  down  npon  him  bare  the  bandit 

three. 
And  at  the  midmost  charging,  Prince 

Geralnt 
Drave  the  long  spear  a  cubit  tliro*  his 

breast 
And  out  beyond ;  and  then  against  his 

brace 
Of  comrades,  each  of  whom  had  broken 

on  him 
A  ]ance  that  8p1Inter*d  like  an  icicle^ 
Swung  from  his  brand  a  wiudy  buffet 

out 
Once,  twice,  to  right,  to  left,   and 

stunn*d  the  twain 
Or  slew  them,  and  dismounting  like  a 

man 
That  skins  the  wild  beast  after  slaying 

him, 
Stript  from  the  three  dead  wolves  of 

woman  bom 
The  three  gay  suits  of  armor  which 

they  wore. 
And  let  the  bodies  lie,  but  bound  the 

suits 
Of  armor  on  their  horses,  each  on  each, 
And  tied  the  bridle-reins  of  all  the 

three 
Together,  and   said  to  her,   **  Drive 

them  on 
Before  you  ;  **  and   she  drove   them 

thro*  the  waste. 

He  follow'd  nearer:  ruth  began  to 

work 
Against  his  anger  in  him,  while  he 

watch*d 
The  being  he  loved  best  in  all  the 

world, 
With  difficulty  in  mild  obedience 
Driving  them  on  :  he  fain  had  spoken 

to  her. 
And  loosed  in  words  of  sudden  fire  the 

wrath 
And  smoulder'd  wrong  that  burnt  him 

all  within : 
But  evermore  it  seem*dan  easier  thing 
At  once  without  remorse  to  strike  her 

dead, 
Than  to  cry  "  Halt,"  and  to  her  own 

bright  face 
Accuse  her  of  the  least  immodesty  : 
And  thus  tongue-tied,    it   made   him 

wroth  the  more 
Sliat  she  cmUd  speak  whom  his  own 

ear  had  heard 
Call  herself  false :  and  suffering  thus 

he  made 
Minutes  an  age  :  but  in  scarce  longer 

time 
Than  atCaerleon  the  full-tided  Usk, 
Before  ho  turn  to  fall  seaward  a^ain, 


FaoseSt  did  Enid,  keeping  wateh,  be- 
hold 

In  the  lirst  shallow  shade  of  a  deep 
wood, 

Before  a  gloom  of  stubborn-shafted 
oaks, 

Three  other  horsemen  waiting,  wholly 
arm*d. 

Whereof  one  seem*d  far  larger  than 
her  lord. 

And  sliook  her  pulses,  crying,  *'  Look, 
a  prixe ! 

Three  horses  and  three  goodly  suits  of 
arms. 

And  ail  in  charge  of  whom  ?  a  girl :  set 
on." 

"  Nay"  said  the  second,  **  yonder  con<ei 
a  knight." 

The  third,  ^*  A  craven;  how  he  hangs 
his  head." 

The giantans\ver*d merrily,  "Yea,  but 
one? 

Wait  here,  and  when  he  passes  fkll  up- 
on him." 

And  Enid  ponder*d  in  her  heart  and 

said, 
"  I  will  abide  the  coming  of  mv  lord. 
And  I  will  tell  him  all  their  %'illanv. 
My  lord  is  weary  with  the  fight  before, 
And  they  will  fall  upon  him  unawares. 
I  needs  must  disobey  him  for  his  good ; 
How  should  I  dare  obey  him  to  hit 

harm? 
Needs  must  T  speak,  and  tho'  he  kill 

me  lor  it, 
I  save  a  life  dearer  to  me  than  mine.*' 

And  she  abode  his  coming,  and  said 

to  him 
With  timid  firmness,  **  Have  I  leave  to 

speak?'* 
He  said,  **  Ye  take  it,  speaking,**  and 

she  spoke. 

**  There  lurk  three  villains  yonder  in 

the  wood, 
And  each  of  them  is  wholly  arm*d,  and 

one 
Is  larger-limb'dthan  you  are,  and  they 

say 
That  they  will  fall  upon  you  while  you 

pass.'* 

To  which  he  flung  a  wrathful  answer 

back  : 
"  And  if  there  were  an  hundred  in  the 

wood, 
And   every   man  were   larger-limb'd 

than  I, 
And  all  at  once  should  sally  out  upon 

me, 
I  swear  it  would  not  ruffle  me  so  much 
As  you  that  not  obey  me.  Stand  aside. 
And  if  I  fall,  cleave  to  the  beltei 


man 


»> 


And  Enid  stood  aside  to  wait  the 
event, 
Not  dare  to  watch  iVife  qots^^X.^  ot^'^ 
breathe 


270  GERAIST 

Short  flU  of  piaTBr,  at  dtcit  «troke  a 

biealh. 
And  lie.  ilie  dnided  most,  bua  down 

Aini'd  nt  U>s  helin,  Ub  laace  eir'd ;  but 


AND  ENID. 

Ar.d  UiBT  OieiRHlTcs,  i:ks  cnal 

EHiitIr  bon. 
But  Info  bitlliandBlaU'ii,  ■ndnc 

Iniig 
By  baiidJw  groomM.pTfok'd  Ilielt 

Har  low  flnu  voice  and  tonder  gomni-   I 


And  tben  brake  abort,  and  down  \x\a 

eiimOT  roH'rt. 
And  tliere  lay  BtUl :  u  bo  that  1«11B  Ibe 

UlB, 

Baw  onca  asreat  pleco  oZ  ■  proroon- 

Tbat  bod  a  Bapllnf?  (rrnwinE  mi  it.  slip 
Vtwa  tbe  long  slioro-cUff-B  ivliidy  wulla 

toUioboiu-h, 
And  Ibero  lie  Btlll,  atidyot  tbe  mpliiig 

So  liy^^r^n  tnuMflit.    Ills  ciavon 

Of  Gomrsdea,  inaldiie  slowller  at  tbo 

■aril  f  nil- 

Ouwboni  tha  victor,  tocouCoQudlbom 

EpnriM  wlih  bis  terrible  war-erj  ;  lor 

TbatJUtenVuearalorrout  monnUiu- 

AU  tbro'  Ib'e  crasb  of  tbo  nonr  catnrMt 

beam 
The  drtimminiE  tbundcr  oC  Ibo  Iiar!or 

fall 
At  dlstanra,  vera  tbo  noldlcta  iTont  lo 

tear 
Hbi  rolce  in  battle,  and  1)0  bindlcd  bv 

it. 
And  foenian»nTed,lDtetbiitfaIea  pair 

Firing  but,  OTBrtakan,  dUil  Ihn  .leatli 


from  eacb. 
And  bound  Ibem  on  Uielr  horses,  ooch 

on  each. 
And  lied  tbo  bridle-relna  of  nil  Uie 

three 
ToBelbar,   and  Buld   to  bor,  "TlriTe 

them  on 
Before  yon."  nndeho  drove  IbomHiro" 

Be  follow'd  noarer  bUII  :   Ibe  rain 
«be  hiul 
To  keep  Ibeni  In  (he  wild  wnys  of  Ibe 

Tffoiels  of  Ihrea  laden  irltb  jlngUng 

Tngetber.  Mrved  a  little  li>  dlxedin 


The  hI 


[  i«S  !™Q 


en  Eh 


x>m  of  IbD  wwd   I 
>pen  hesTOIii  bo-   | 


In  IhB  brown  wild,  and  mowHi  i 

bi^lnlt: 
And  down  a  rocky  i>aUiway  tron 

Thcrc^rlt^\  afnlr-halr-dynBtli.  tl; 
Ids  bund 

Goralnt 

Then,  niovCig  downward  to  IhellHI 

nw  ground, 
lie,  vlien  the  falr-bali'd  youth  ugK  I 

by  Urn,  eald,  I 

■Trffltid,  lethereat;  tbo  dunucl  Uw  | 

"  Tea,  willingly,"  repliod  tbo  yooSi 

Mylord.eatalao'.tho'thDfanlBcMIW)  ■ 
And  only  meet  for  inoweisi"  theaut  | 

Ilia  basket  and  dismounting  on  ^ 

They   let  the  horses  graie 

And  Enid  took  ft  Utile  delleately, 
J^aa  having  stomach  for  it  Uuui  .io 
To  tloee  witb  ber  loid'a  pleuurv  ; 


AuilwlMufounc 


oatni 


empty.waa  «ran.  ^^„ 
be,  -'i  hare  e*»^'* 

or  Buerdon ;  ch'^^-"^ 

itremlly  of  dell  ^^f 


He,  reddening  in  ( 

■'  My  lord,  yon  oy«.  ru, 

•'  Ye  will  be  all  the  » 

Ibe  Prince. 
"  I  take  it  u  free  ^tl.  then."  said 


^b! 


GERAINT  AND  ENID, 


271 


And  serve  you  costlier  than  with  now- 
er»'  fare." 

Then  said  Geraixit,  "I  wish  no  better 
fare : 

I  never  ate  with  angrier  appetite 

Thau  when  I  left  your  mowei-s  dinner- 
less,  * 

And  into  no  Earl's  palace  will  I  go. 

1  know,  God  kuows,  too  much  of  pal- 
aces ! 

And  if  he  want  me,  let  him  come  to 
me. 

But  hire  us  some  fair  chamber  for  the 
night, 

And  stalling  for  the  horses,  and  return 

With  victusQ  for  these  men,  and  let  us 
know." 

"  Yea,  my  kind  lord,"  said  the  glad 
youth,  and  went, 
Held  his  head  high,  and  thought  him- 
self a  knight, 
And  up  the  rocky  pathway  disappeared. 
Leading  the  horse,  and  they  were  left 
alone. 

But  when  the  Prince  had  brought 

his  errant  eyes 
Home  from  the  rock,  sideways  he  let 

them  glance 
At  Enid,  where  she  droopt :  his  own 

false  doom. 
That  shadow  of  mistrust  should  never 

cross 
Betwixt  them,  came  upon  him,  and  ho 

sigh'd ; 
Then  witli  another  humorous  ruth  re- 

mark'd 
The  lusty  mowers  laboring  dinnerle^s. 
And  watch'd  the  sun  blaze  on  the  turn- 
ing scythe. 
And  after  nodded  sleepily  in  the  heat. 
Bat  she,  remembeiiug'  her  old  rniu'd 

hall, 
And  all  the  windy  clamor  of  the  daws 
AlK>ut  her  hollow  turret,  pluck'd  the 

grass 
IThere  growing  longest  by  the  mead- 
ow's edge. 
And  into  many  a  listless  annulet. 
Now  over,  now  beneath  her  marriage 

ring. 
Wove  and  imwove  it,  till  the  boy  re- 

tum'd 
And  told  them  of  a  chamber,  and  they 

went ; 

"Where,  after  saying  to  her, "  If  ye  will, 
Call  for  the  woman  of  the  house,"  to 

which 
She  answer'd,  **  Thanks,  my  lord ; "  the 

two  remain'd 
Apart  by  all  the  chamber's  width,  and 

mute 
Ab  creatures  voiceless  thro'  the  fault  of 

birth. 
Or  two  wild  men  supporters  of  a  shield, 
Painted,  who  stare  at  open  space,  nor 

glance 
The  one  at  other,  parted  by  the  shield. 


On  a  sudden,  many  a  voice  along  the 
street. 
And  heel  against  the  pavement  echo- 
ing, burst 
Their  drowse ;  and  either  started  while 

the  door, 
Push'd  from  without,  drave  backward 

to  the  wall. 
And  midmost  of  a  rout  of  roisterer?. 
Femininely  fair  and  dissolutely  pale, 
Her  suitor  in  old  years  before  Geraint, 
Euter'd,  the  wild  lord  of  the  place, 

Limours. 
He  moving  up  with  pliant  courtliness, 
Greeted  Geramt  full  face,  but  stealthi- 
ly. 
In  the  mid-warmth  of  welcome  and 

grasot  hand, 
Pouna  Enid  with  the  comer  of  his  eye. 
And  knew  her  sitting  sad  and  solitaiy. 
Then  cried  Geraint  for  wine  and  goodly 

cheer 
To  feed  the  sudden  guest,  and  sumptu- 
ously 
According  to  his  fashion, bade  theho«t 
Call    in  what  men    soever  were   his 

friends. 
And  feast  with  these  in  honor  of  their 

earl ; 
''And  care  not  for  the  cost ;  the  cost  is 


»» 


mme. 

And  wine  and  food  wore  brought, 

and  Earl  Limours 
Brank  till  he  jested  with  all  ease,  and 

told 
Free  tales,  and  took  the  word  and 

play'd  upon  it, 
And  made  it  of  two  colors  ;  for  his  talk, 
"When  wine  and  free  companions  kin- 
dled him. 
Was  wont  to  glance  and  sparkle  like  a 

gem 
Of  fifty  facets ;  thus  he  moved  the 

Prince 
To  laughter  and  his  comrades  to  ap- 
plause, 
Then,  when  the  Prince  was  merry, 

ask'd  Limours, 
"Your  leave,  my  lord,  to  cross  the 

room,  and  speak 
To  your  good  datasel  there  who  sits 

apart. 
And  seems  so  lonely?"   "My  free 

leave  "  he  said ; 
"  Get  her  to  speak :  she  does  not  speak 

to  me." 
Then  rose  Limours  and  looking  at  his 

feet, 
Like  him  who  tries  the  bridge  he  fears 

may  fail, 
Crost  and  came  near,  lifted  adoring 

eyes, 
Bow'd  at  her  side  and  utter'dwhis- 

peringly: 

**  Enid,  the  pilot  star  of  my  lone  life, 
Enid  my  early  and  my  only  love, 
Enid  tlie  loss  of  whom  has  turn'd  m.% 
wild- 


272  GERAIXT 

'n'liatclumce  U tills?  how  iBll 

ho  re  -.- 
You  are  In  niy  power  at  last,  c 

Tet  tear  me'liot :  I  cilII  mine  ■ 

nlld, 
But  keep  a  Innch  of  sweet  cIt 
Here  lu  tbe  heart  of  wuetu  Hii< 

)  thonglit.  bnt  that  yauc  futl 

tittlaliappler:  let 
ie  notlilug  far  a  ] 


Ami  If  it 


Owajou  n 
TM,jS!t: 
And,  £nld' 


Toierr. 

TLo'  men  may  blctor  willi  tlis  tLiuBB 
They  would  not  make  Iheni  liraBhBblo 
Kot  while  ihey  ioTOd  them  ;  and  your 
A  vretebed  inault  on  you,  duiably 
Tour  aU)ry,  ihut  lUa  man  loTeifou  no 
Mm  ni 

iwpaii' 


old? 


AND  ENID. 

ttdelit.  Bj 

hiB  eyes. 
oiit  an  Uiov  were,  wine-healed  fi 

tbe  reaat ; 
ud  anawet'd  with  such  craft  u 

"lltYorKuiltieM.tosIBTeolTachii 
bat  breaks  upou  them  perilooil;, ; 

■' Enrl,  IE  you  loTe  meai  In  fun 

nd  do  not  pnutiae  on  me,  coue  « 
nd  Bnuli'i;  mo  from  Ulm  as  by 
oBvo  niB  lo-night:  I  am  wear;  lo  itia 


moving  b^uward  bublilcd 


Fori 

For  tbe  m 

But  here 

old; 

With  mor 


i:  nor  Willys  win  Mm 

9  ono  who  loves  jou  as  ol 
exceeding  passion  than  oi 


They  imderstaud  ;  no ; 

blnod: 
T!or  need  you  look  bo  bo 


He  Ihall  not  cross  us  more ;  speak  but 
Or  speak  it  not ;  hut  then  by  Him  tllfit 


ButEniil  left  alone  with  FriDM  G«- 

ssss 

Held  Fommuno  withherHeU,  aadvUl3 

nhe  held 
lie  fell  usleep.  and  Enid  liad  no  hsut 
To   wake   him,  but   buue  o'er  Um. 

wholly  plenspd 
To  find  UimyeluiiwnnndedBftBraiilil, 
Aud  henr  bim    breathing   low  sjhI 

equally. 
Anon  she  rose,  and  steppfng  llEblll, 

■       !i«|il««- 


The  pleo. 

All  lo  be  there  oimins 

Then  dozed  awhile  hi.-[ii:ii,  uui  vn^ 

lollM 
By  that  day's  Eriaf  and  tiarel,  erw 

ling  at  a  rootlvH  tlio" 


And  stmngly  Itrtking  out  h«r  llDi>< 

Thon  thought  >be heard  the  wildEu 

At  the  door, 
With  all  Mb  rout  of  random  foUonn 
Sound  oo  a  dreadful  trumpet,  tuuincni 

Ing  her ; 
'Which  was  the  red  cock  ibauUut  I 

the  light, 
As  the  gray  dawn  stole  o'st  the  de* 

And  gllmmer'd  on  Mb  stuiot  Id  <t 

L  Ao^  i^iitiQ  a^jtlAL^o  rose  to  louk  at  I 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 

Bat  touch'd  it  ouawares  { jangling,  tlio 

casiiuo 
Fell)  and  ne  started  up  and  stared  at 


273 


her. 
Then  breaking  his  command  of  silence 


given, 
old 


She  tdid  him  all  that  Earl  limoors  had 

said, 
Except  the  passage  that  he  loved  her 

not; 
Kor  left  untold  the  craft  herself  had 

used; 
But  ended  with  apology  so  sweet. 
Low-spoken,  and  of  so  few  words,  and 

seem'd 
So  justifie<l  hy  that  necepsity. 
That  tho*  he  thought  **  was  U  for  him 

she  wept 
In  Devon?"  he  but  gave  a  wrathful 

groan, 
Saying**  your  sweet  faces  make  good 

fellows  fools 
And  traitors.    Call  the  host  and  bid 

him  bring 
Charger  and  palfrey.'*    So  she  glided 

out 
Among  the  heavy  breathings  of  tho 

house. 
And  like  a  household  Spirit  at  tho 

walls 
Beat,  till  she  woke  the  sleepers,  and 

returned : 
Then  tending  her  rough  lord,  tho*  all 

unosk'd, 
In  silence,  did  him  service  as  a  squire ; 
Till  issuing  arm'd  ho  found  the  host 

and  cried, 
**  Thy  reckoning,  friend  ?  "  and  ere  he 

learnt  it,  **  Take 
Five  horses  and  their  armors ; "  and 

the  host. 
Suddenly  honest,  answer'd  in  amaze, 
"Hy  lord.   I  scarce  have  spent  the 

worth  of  one  I  ** 
« Ye  will  be  all  the  wealthier,"  said 

the  Prince, 
And  then  to  Enid,  *'  Forward  !  and  to- 
day 
I  charee  you,  Enid,  more  especially, 
What  tnins  soever  ye  may  hear,  or  see. 
Or  fancy  (uio*  I  count  it  of  small  use 
To  charge  you)  that  ye  speak  not  but 

obey." 

And  Enid  answered,  "  Yea,  my  lord, 

I  know 
Your  wish,  and  would  obey  ;  but  riding 

first, 
I  hear  the  violent  threats  you  do  net 

hear, 
I  seo  the  danger  which  you  cannot  see: 
Then  not  to  give  you  warning,  that 

seems  himl ; 
Almost  beyond  me:  yet  I  would  obey." 

**  Yea  so,"  said  he,  *'  do  it:  be  not 

too  wise ; 
Beting  that  ye  are  wedded  to  a  man, 
Kot  quite  mismated  with  a  yawning 

clown« 


But  one  with  arms  to  guard  his  head 

and  yours, 
"With  eyes  to  find  you  out  however  far, 
And  ears  to  hear  you  even  in  his 

dreams." 


With  that  he  tum'd  and  look*d  aa 
keenly  at  her 

As  careful  robins  eye  thedelver's  toil ; 

And  that  within  her,  which  a  wanton 
fool. 

Or  hasty  ludger  would  have  call'd  her 
guilt. 

Made  her  cheek  bum  and  either  eye^ 
lid  fall. 

And  Geraint  look*d  and  was  not  satis- 
fied. 

Then  forward  by  a  way  which,  beaten 

broad. 
Led  from  the  territory  of  false  Limours 
To  the  waste  earldom  of  another  earl, 
I>oorm,  whom  his  shaking  vassals  call'd 

the  Bull, 
•Went  Enid  with  her  sullen  follower  on. 
Once  she   look'd  back,  and  when  she 

saw  him  ride 
More  near  by  many  a  rood  than  yester- 

mom, 
It  wellnigh  made  her  cheerful ;  till  Ge- 
raint 
Waving  an  angry  hand  as  who  should 

say 
**  Ye  watch  me,"  sadden*d  all  her  heart 

again. 
But  while  the  sun  yet  beat  a  dewy 

blade. 
The  sound  of  many  a  heavily-galloping 

hoof 
Smote  on  her  ear,  and  turning  round 

she  saw 
Bust,  and  the  points  of  lances  bicker 

in  it. 
Then  not  to  disobev  her  lord's  behest. 
And  yet  to  give  him  warning,  for  he 

rode 
As  if  he  heard  not,  moving  back  she 

held 
Her  finger  up,  and  pointed  to  the  dust. 
At  which  tho  warrior  in  his  obstinacy. 
Because  she    kept  the  letter  of  liu 

word 
Was  in  a  manner  pleased,  and  turning, 

stood. 
And  in  the  moment  after,  wild  Li- 
mours, i 
Borne  on  a  black  horse,  liko  a  thun- 
der-cloud , 
Whose  skirts  are  loosen*d  by  tho  brca!i- 

ing  storm, 
Half  ridden  ott  with  by  the  thing  ho 

rode, 
And  all  in  passion  uttering  a  dry 

shriek, 
BashM  on  Geraint,  who  closed  with 

him,  and  boro 
Down  by  the  length  of  lance  and  arm 

beyond 
The  crupper,  and  so  left  him  stumi'd 

or  dead, 


\ 


Aud  OTsrUinw  th«  next  th 

biin, 
Aud  blindly  rtuh'il  ou  ill  i 


Of  darting  Hih,  that  on  iti 


CaaieBUppiDKo'ditllelcihBduwgan  the 

R  ut  [(  a  man  vbo  stonrta  upon  the  brinii 
BtltllttaihiniiiEhandtigsixiBtlheaun, 
ThQre  ll  not  lufC  the  (wiiiklg  ot  a  tin 
Betwixt  Ills    creui  iaiew    whits   Iti 

So,  icarod  £ut  at  Uia  mdtloii  ol  the 

Fled  ail  tlie  boon  compa>iiiciiia  of  thu 

AndleClhlmlj-liiirlnthapuliUeRay; 
Bo  Taiiish  rHaQdahJii*  uiilj'  made   In 

Then  Uks  a  itonny  Buullght  smiled 
Geralnl, 
Who  uv  the  tdiargera  ot  the  two  that 

Start  from  Uielr  tallen  lords,  and  >rlld- 


It  fly. 

:l  with 


the   Hfers,     •■  Horse  ojid 

he  eaid. 

luliul  and  all  rlglit  Uuiiest 


paid  n 


hinder. 


.r  bei : 


AudBD  whaliay  j'e.thallvie  iitrl|>Mm 

your  Inyer  ?    bas  your  paltrsy  heart 

Td  b«sr  bfa  armor  ?  shull  va  last  DC 

dine? 
No?  — then  do  JQU,  being  right  hon- 

That  we'  may  meet  the  horaemon  ot 


Barl  Dwnn. 
ItODwonldatlllbeLoueBl. 

And  Badly 'gadng  on  her  br 

Tl.u»hfl 
td"diB  led 

But  aa  a  man  lo  whom 

Falls  in  a  far  land  and  hek 
But  ciiuiiiig  back  he  learna 

a  dreadful 

owBitnot. 
It,  and  the 

So  pains  him  Ihat  he  eick 
So  fared  It'with  GerninC, 
In  eom'bM  with  the   (olio 

ua  nigh  to 
wlio  being 

GERAJNT  AND  ENID, 


27ft 


And  bear  him  henee  out  of  this  cruel 

sun: 
Most  Kure  am  I,  quite  sure,  he  Is  not 

dead/' 

Then  said  Earl  Doorm  ;  **  Well  if  he 

be  not  dead, 
Why  wail  ye  for  him  thus?  ye  seem  a 

childl 
And  be  he  dead,  I  count  you  for  a  fool; 
Your  wailing  will  not  quicken  him  : 

dead  or  not, 
Ye  mar  a  comely  face  with  idiot  tears. 
Yet,  since  the  face  u  comely— some  of 

you, 
Here,  take  him  up,  and  bear  him  to 

our  hall : 
An  if  he  live,  we  will  have  him  of  our 

band ; 
And  if  he  die,  why  earth  has  earth 

enough 
To  hide  him.    See  ye  take  the  charger 

too, 
A  noble  one." 

He  spake,  and  past  away. 
But  left  two  brawny  spearmen,  who 

advanced, 
Hach  growling  like  a  dog,  when  his 

good  bone 
Seems  to  be  pluck*d  at  by  the  village 

boys 
Who  love  to  vex  him  eating,  and  he 

fears 
To  lose  his  bone,  and  lays  his  foot 

upon  it, 
Gnawing  and  growling :  so  the  rufflans 

growrd, 
Fearins  to  lose,  and  all  for  a  dead  man, 
Tlieir  chance  of  booty  from  the  morn- 
ing's raid ; 
Yet  raised  and  laid  him  on  a  litter- 
bier. 
Such  as  they  brought  upon  their  fo- 
rays out 
For  those  that  might  be  wounded ;  laid 

him  on  it 
All  in  the  hollow  of  his  shield,  and 

took 
And  bore  him  to  the  naked  hall  of 

Doorm, 
(His  gentle  charger  following  him  un- 

led) 
And  cast  him  and  the  bier  in  which  he 

lay 
Down  on  an  oaken  settle  in  the  hall. 
And  then  departed,  hot  in  hatfitetojoin 
Their  luckier  mates,  but  growling  as 

before. 
And  cursing  their  lost  timO;  and  the 

dead  man. 
And  their  own  Earl,  and  their  own 

souls,  and  her. 
They  might  as  well  have  blest  her :  she 

was  deaf 
To  blessing  and  to  cursing  save  from 

one. 

So  for  long  hours  sat  Enid  by  her 
lord. 
There  in  the  naked  ball,  propping  his 
head, 


And  chafing  his  pale  hands,  and  call. 

inc  to  him. 
And  ac  tlie  last  he  waken'd  from  his 

swoon. 
And  found  his  own  dear  bride  propping 

his  head, 
And  chafing  his  faint  hands,  and  call* 

ing  to  him  ; 
And  felt  the  warm  tears  falling  on  his 

face ; 
And  said  to  his  own  heart,  "  she  weeps 

for  me :  ** 
And  yet  lay  still,  and  feign'd  himself 

as  dead, 
That  he  might  prove  her  to  the  utter- 
most, 
And  say  to  liis  own  heart  "  she  weeps 

for  me." 

But  in  the  falling  afternoon  retum'd 
The  huge  Eurl  Doorm  with  plunder  to 

the  hall. 
His  lusty  spearmen  follow'd  him  with 

noise : 
Each  hurling  down  a  heap  of  things 

that  rang 
Against  the  pavement,  cast  his  lance 

aside, 
And  doff 'd  his  helm  :  and  then  there 

fluttered  in. 
Half-bold,  half-frighted,  with  dilated 

eyes, 
A  tribe  of  women,  dress'd  In  many 

hues. 
And  mingled  with  the  spearmen :  and 

Earl  Doorm 
Struck  with  a  knife's  haft  hard  against 

the  board, 
And  call'd  for  flesh  and  wine  to  feed 

his  spears. 
And  men  brought  in  whole  hogs  and 

quarter  beeves, 
And  all  the  hall  was  dim  with  steam  of 

flesh  : 
And  none  spake  word,  but  all  sat  down 

at  once. 
And  ate  with  tumult  In  the  naked 

hall. 
Feeding  like  horses  when  you  hear 

them  feed ; 
Till  Enid  shrank  far  back  Into  herself, 
To  shun  the  wild  ways  of  the  lawless 

tribe. 
But  when  Earl  Doorm  had  eaten  all  he 

would. 
He  roll'd  his  eyes  about  the  hall,  and 

found 
A  damsel  drooping  in  a  comer  of  it. 
Then  he  remember'd  her,  and  how  she 

wept ; 
And  out  of  her  there  came  a  power 

upon  him  ; 
And  rising  on  a  sudden,  he  said,  **  Eat ! 
I  never  yet  beheld  a  thing  so  pale. 
God's  curse,  It  makes  me  mad  to  see 

you  weep. 
Eat !    Look  yourself.    Good  luck  had 

your  good  man. 
For  were  I  dead  who  is  it  would  weep 

forme? 


GERAmr 

t  IsJy.  never  alnco  I  flnt  drew 


it  lady,  never 
brealli. 


Tliere  1>  not  one  imonE  my  lelitle- 

te  tit  to  wear  your   atlpper  for  a 

Rlove. 
1  lliuii  to  me,  nnd  by  me  bo  ruled. 
1  1  win   Ud  the  thing  I  hofe  not 

For  you  Bbnll  Bbare  my  euldoui  wOli 
Aiid  we  wnnlre  lllie  two  bird*  ill  one 
Ana  1  win  tetcb  you  forage  from  all 
ForltoniiwlallcrealureilomywUl." 
He  spoke  :  the  brawny  apesrmui  let 
BDlgR  Willi  tliennnrallow'il  piece,  and 

'Wbllo  ■ome.  whOH  Bo'ulB  tUe  u]<l  uet- 

pent  loi.K  baa  drawn 
Itown,   ai    tbe   worm  druws    in    [bo 


AND  ENID. 

I      "  No,  no,"  Mid  Enlil,  vest,  "  I  wfll 

Tin  yuiidoT  man  upon  Uie  bier  artie, 

Aiiil  eutwitli  me-"    "  I>rlii]c,tlieni"ba 

lAna  nilM  a.  born  with  wine  and  beld 


Before  1  wall  luive  Uronken. 


orded- 


Whit  Bbali  uut  be 

men.  otwbat  had  been  tJiosa  gra- 
MiQW  deBlreiltbfl humbling  of  llieir 
I,  would  havs  help'd  blm  to  it :  nnd 

They  Imted  her,  who  look  no  thoDght 
lowTolco,  her  meek 

DroopTug.  ■'■!  pray  you  of  your  conr- 

She  apake  ko  low  he  banlly  lieaid  her 

Bnt  like  a  nd'flity  patron,  latisfled 
With  wimt  hlmiwlf  had  done  eo  gra- 

Aiiumed  that  ibe  had  tliaulied  liim, 

adding.  "ye». 
Eat  and  be  Elod,  lor  I   aceount  yoa 

She  anawer'd  meekly.  "  How  ■honld 
1  bo  glad 
Benreforth  iu  all  the  world  at  any- 

Unlil  niy  lord  arise  and  look  upon 

Sere  Iho  huge  Eart  crlod  out  upon 

I  all  but  empty  heart  and  wpBrines* 
id  Biokly  nothing;  auddeuly  leiied 

ber  by  main  violence  to  the 

And  thTiiBt  'the  lUsh  before  bet,  crying, 


changB  JO 

nrwiU. 

■ 

Tlllni^do^lo 
And  dr{nk  iritli 

H^k"*' 

'  by  Heaven,  I 

dlriaoftndbldmedo 

IwiUnotliwka 

twine 

mil  1  die," 

AlthlBheturn'dall 

red  and  paced 

wgnaw'dhl 


TaJte  warning  ;  yonder 
And  1  compelall  creatii 


Uelioidinghowyebuitagalni-tniy  will 
Tliat  I  forbeai  yon  tbuk  :  cross  me  » 


i 


aat  put  off  to  please  me  thli 
filkeii  rag,  this  beggai-wo 
beauty  should  go  b 


(oily : 

roneeyano.  ^,,  ,^,,...-..,.1. 

Huw  gay,  how  mlted  to  the  Iiouimi  ol 

Who  ]ov«i  that  beauty  should  gobi 

Bise  tbereCore  ;  robe  youcseU  In  (I 

lis  spoke,  and  one  among  hlsgeiltl*- 

DUplay'il  a  splendid  silk  of   lorelgB 

Where  like  a  shoaling  sek  tlie  lovely 

blue 
Flsy'd  into  green,  and  Ilili^er  duKD 

Wltb]ewel>  than  theewarJ  «ltb4n>l> 

When  all  nlithi  long  a  cload  ellnp  10   J 

And  with  the' davmuoandlDg  l«U  lb«   I 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 


277 


Sti-ike  where  it  clang :  so  thickly  shone 
the  gems. 

Bat  Enid  aniwer'd,  harder  to  be 
moved 

Than  hardest  tyrants  in  their  day  of 
power, 

With  life-long  injories  burning  una- 
venged, 

And  now  their  hour  has  come ;  and 
Enid  said  : 

"  In  this  poor  gown  my  dear  lord 

found  me  first, 
And  loved  me  serving  in  my  father's 

hall: 
In  this  poor  gown  I  rode  with  him  to 

court, 
And  there  the  Queen  array*d  me  like 

the  sun : 
In  this  poor  gown  he  bade  me  clothe 

myself, 
TVlien  now  we  rode  upon  this  fatal 

quest 
Of  honor,  where  no  honor  can  be 

Siin'd  : 
is  poor  gown  I  will  not  cast 
aside 
Until  himself  arise  a  living  man, 
And  bid  me  cast  it.    I  have   griefs 

enough : 
Pray  you  be  eentle,  pray  you  let  me  be : 
I  never  loved,  can  never  love  but  him : 
ITea,  God,  I  pray  you  of  your  gentle- 
ness, 
Ue  being  as  he  is,  to  let  me  be.*' 

Then  strode  the  brute  Earl  up  and 

down  his  hall, 
And  took  his  russet  beard  between  his 

teetli ; 
Last,  coming  up  qtdte  close,  and  in  his 

mood 
Crying,  **  I  count  it  of  no  more  avail, 
l>ame,  to  be  gentle  than  ungentle  wiin 

you; 
Take  my  salute,"  unknightly  with  flat 

hand. 
However  lightly,  smote  her  on  the 

cheek. 

Then  Enid,  in  her  utter  helpless- 
ness. 

And  since  she  thought,  "  he  had  not 
dared  to  do  it, 

Except  he  surely  knew  my  lord  was 
dead," 

Sent  forth  a  sudden  sharp  and  bitter 
cry. 

As  of  a  wild  thing  taken  in  the  trap, 

Which  sees  the  trapper  coming  thro* 
the  wood. 

This  heard  Geraint,  and  grasping  at 

his  sword, 
fit  lay  beside  him  in  the  hollow  shield,) 
Made  but  a  single  lx>und,  and  with  a 

sweep  of  it 
Shore  thro^  the  swarthy  neck,  and  like 

a  ball 
The  russet-bearded  head  roU'd  on  the 

floor. 


So  died  Earl  Doorm  by  him  he  counted 

dead. 
And  all  the  men  and  women  in  the  hall 
llose  when  they  saw  the  dead  man  rise, 

and  fled 
Yelling  as  from  a  spectre,  and  the  two 
Were  left  alone  together,  and  he  said : 

"  Enid,  I  have  used  you  worse  than 

that  dead  man ; 
Done  you  more  wrong  :  we  both  have 

undergone 
That  trouble  which  has  left  me  thrice 

your  owh : 
Henceforward  I  will  rather  die  than 

doubt. 
And  here  I  lay  this  penance  on  myself. 
Not,  tho'  mine   own  ears  heard  you 

yester-mom — 
You  thought  me  sleeping,  but  I  heard 

you  say, 
I  heard  you  say,  that  you  were  no  true 

wife : 
I  swear  I  will  not  ask  your  meaning  in 

it: 
I  do  believe  yourself  against  yourself, 
And  will  henceforward  rather  die  than 

doubt." 

And  Enid  could  not  say  one  tender 

word, 
She  felt  so  blunt  and  stupid  at  the 

heart  * 
She  only  prayed  him,  "  Fly,  they  will 

return 
And  slay  you :  fly,  your  charger  is 

without, 
My  palf  ry  lost."    "  Then,  Enid,  shall 

yon  ride 
Behind  me."    "  Yea,"  said  Enid,  "  let 

us  go." 
And  moving  out  they  found  the  stately 

horse. 
Who  now  no  more  a  vassal  to  the  thief. 
But  free  to  stretch  its  limbs  in  lawful 

fight, 
Neigh'd  with  all  gladness  as  they  came, 

and  stoop'd 
With  a  low  whinny  toward  the  pair : 

and  she 
Kiss'd  the  white  star  upon  his  noble 

front. 
Glad  also ;  then  Geraint  upon  the  horse 
Mounted,  and  reach'd  a  hand,  and  on 

his  foot 
She  set  herownandclimb'd ;  he  tum'd 

his  face 
And  kiss'd  her  climbing,  and  she  cast 

her  arms 
About  him,  and  at   once  they  rode 

away. 

And  never  yet,  since  high  in  Para- 
dise 
O'er  the  four  rivers  the  flrst  roses  blew. 
Came  purer  pleasure  unto  mortal  kind 
Than  li  ve<l  tnro'  her,  who  in  that  per* 

ilous  hour 
Put  hand  to  hand  beneath  her  hu» 
band's  hearty 


\ 


mp 


h'im. 

Tlian,  f  Kiting  (or 


Sbtleli'il  CO  the  ■ 

ig  it  «M  Edyni.  Kin  if  Nudcl. 
■  soared  «>  nincli  Uie  more,  and 

Bhilek'dKgaln, 
coiuin,  bUjt noEum  wbagBve  ;ou 

antlr  fotwilrd 


..»,i. 


I  took  you  I 


>t,  Enid,  I 


siidit  kiilglit  dC 

[Bliould  fall  upon 

ore  you,  Prince,  with  Bometliing 
it  the  loVB 
'Wliccenllli  we  Idts  Ilie  Heaven  that 
iliastens  ue. 
ice.  wlien  I  was  up  eo  high  in 

That  f  was  Lalf  way  down  the  b  Lope  to 

Hell, 
By  overthrowing  me  yea  ttirew  mo 

Hov,nia[Iea]ciilEhto[  Arthur's  Tablo 

Bound, 
AndBlnce  1  knewUiiiEari,  when  I  my- 

Wnahalf  a  bandit  in  my  lawlegi  hour, 
-  come  the  moolbpieca  of  oar  Ivlng  u 

<The  King  is  eloso  beliiiid  me)  bidding 


«r»!?w 


Ifing 


le  Judgment  o(  tlie 


'■  He  bears  the  judgmeD t  of  the  Kine 

ot  KingB," 
tiedtbe  wan  Prince;  "And  io  tl^e 

.reicatter'd,"  and  he  pointed  to  Uie 

'Where,  huddled  here   and  thers  on 

ire  men   and  womeu   staring  and 


AND  ENID. 

VThile  Homfl  yet  fled;   and  L 

plaUiliec  Uiitl 
How  ibe  huge  Eorl  lay  eiain  wilUii  iiM 

hall. 
Bat  when  the  knight  besought  Ui^ 

Priuce,  ID  the  caoi'p,  Bnd  in  ibe  KID)'! 

Speak  what  baa  olianced;  ys  Buceir 

Strange   chaneea  here  aione:"  llul 

oih«r  lluBb'd. 
And  hnng  bia  bea<i,  and  baited 

ply. 
Fearing  Ibe  mild  (ace  of  the  kiu 

And    atter  mildness    a<:ted  qoeEilon 

Tiii  Edym  rrrltie.  "  If  ya  will  n. 
To  Anlior._tben  will  Arthur  ooi 

"Enough!"  ha  aaid,"!  follow,' 

But  Enid    tu    tbclr   EOi"E  >>*<1  '■* 

One  from  'Uie  bandit  scallar' 

And  one  from  Edym,    Every  1 


ilu.    Ha,  peKaldnC 

"  Fair  and  dear  oouoin,  you  Ibilmw' 
bad  canie 
To  fear   me.   fear  no  longer. 

chaneed- 
Youiseltwore  Orst  tlieblainBlsttaim 

My  nature's  pHdefal  Bparl:li!  Id  ■ 

Break  into  furious  Same ;  bclnl ' 

ByYnioidiidyoBrseU.l  scbemeilut 


Hid  her  moek.honor  »■  the  fiOiWt  ftJh 
And,  toppling  nrer  Rll  aiitHgunltni. 
So  wai'd  In  pride,  Lhat  I  bSievcd  t 


I  Bbould  have  slain  your  (albcT, 

youraelf. 
I  lived  in  hope  that  lumellmB  It 

To  these  my  liBis  wiib  bim  tdiom 


GERAINT  AND  ENID. 


279 


Tlie  tmest  eyes  that  eyer  aniiwer*d 

heaven, 
Behold  me  oyertum  and  trample  on 

him. 
Then,  had  you  cried,  or  knelt,  orpray*d 

tome, 
I  should  not  less  have  kiU'd  hinu    And 

you  came, — 
But  once  you  came, — and  with  your 

own  true  eyes 
Beheld  the  man  you  loved  (I  speak  as 

one 
Speaks  of  a  service  done  him)  over- 
throw 
My  proud  self,  and  my  purpose  three 

years  old. 
And  set  his  foot  upon  me,  and  give  me 

life. 
There  was  I  broken  down ;  there  was  I 

saved  ; 
Tho'  thence  I  rode  all-shamed,  hating 

the  life 
He  gave  me,  meaning  to  be  rid  of  it. 
And  all  the  penance  the  Queen  laid 

upon  me 
Was  but  to  rest  awhilo  within  her 

court; 
Where  first  as  sullen  as  a  beast  new- 

caged. 
And  waiting  to  be  treated  like  a  wolf, 
Because  I  knew  my  deeds  were  known, 

I  found. 
Instead  of  scornful  pity  or  pure  scorn, 
Soch  fine  reserve  and  noble  reticence. 
Manners  so  kind,  yet  stately,  such  a 

grace 
Of  tenderest  courtesy,  that  I  began 
To  glance  behind  me  at  my  former  life, 
And  find  that  it  had  been  the  wolf's 

indeed : 
And  oft  I  talk*d  with  Dubric,  the  high 

saint, 
Wlio,  with  mild  heat  of  holy  oratory, 
Subdued  me  somewhat  to  that  gentle- 
ness, 
Which,  when  it  weds  with  manhood, 

makes  a  man. 
And  you  were  often  there  about  the 

Queen, 
But  saw  me  not,  or  mark'd  not  if  you 

saw; 
Nor  did  I  care  or  dare  to  speak  witli 

you. 
But    kept    myself    aloof    till  I  was 

changed ; 
And  fear  not.  cousin ;  I  am  changed 

indeed." 

He  spoke,  and  Enid  easily  believed. 
Like  simple  noble  natures,  credulous 
Of  what  uiey  long  for,  good  in  friend 

or  foe. 
There  most  in  those  who  most  have 

done  them  ill. 
And  when  they  reach*d  the  camp  the 

King  himself 
Advanced  to  greet  them,  and  behold- 
ing her 
The'  paie,  yet  happy,  ask'd  her  not  a 
word. 


But  went  apart  with  Edym,  whom  he 

held 
In  converse  for  a  little,  and  retum'd. 
And,  gravely  smiling,  lifted  her  from 

horse. 
And  kiss'd  her  with    all    pureness, 

brother-like, 
And  showed  an  empty  tent  allotted 

her. 
And  glancing  for  a  minute,  till  he  saw 

her 
Pass  into  it,  tum'd  to  the  Prince,  and 

said: 

"  Prince,  when  of  late  ye  pray*d  me 

for  my  leave 
To  move  to  your  own  land  and  there 

defend 
Tour  marches,  I  was  prick'd  with  some 

reproof, 
As  one  that  let  foul  wrong  stagnate 

and  be, 
By  having  look*d  too  much  thro*  alien 

eyes, 
And  wrought  too  long  with  delegated 

hands, 
^ot  used  mine  own  :  but  now  behold 

me  come 
To  cleanse  tills  common  sewer  of  all 

my  realm, 
With  Edyrn  and  with  others  :  have  yo 

look'd 
At  Edyrn  ?  have  ye  seen  how  nobly 

changed  ? 
This  work  of  his  is  great  and  wonder- 
ful. 
His  very  face  with  change  of  heart  \B 

changed. 
The  world  will  not  believe  a  man  re- 

Eents : 
is  wise  world  of  ours  is  mainly 

right. 
Full  seldom  does  a  man  repent,  or  use 
Both  grace  and  will  to  pick  the  vicious 

quitch 
Of  blood  and  custom  wholly  out  of 

him. 
And  make  all  clean,  and  plant  himself 

afresh. 
Edyrn  has  done  it,  weeding  all  his  heart 
Asl  will  weed  thia  land  before  I  jgo. 
I,  therefore,  made  him  of  our  Table 

Round, 
Not  rashly,  but  have  proved  him  every- 
way 
One  of  our  noblest,  our  most  valorous, 
Sanest  and  most  obedient :  and  indeed 
This  work  of    Edyrn  wrought  upon 

himself 
After  a  life  of  violence,  seems  to  me 
A  thousand-fold  more  great  and  won- 

ful 
Then  if  some  knight  of  mine,  risking 

his  life. 
My  subject  with  my  subjects   undez 

liim. 
Should  make  an  onslaught  single  on  m 

realm 
Of  robbers,  tho'  he  slew  them  one  by 

one 


^ 


And  were  hiniMtt  nleh 


9o  spake  tbs  King ;  loir  baw'd  the 
Priiiue,  iiix<l  Celt 

dciful. 
And  put  10  Enld-B  tent;  nndlUtlier 

The  King's  own  leech  to  loolt  inlo  hts 

Aiid  El 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN. 

unded  to  AndflttyknIghtBrodeirlUilbeiiilD 
Of  Savorn,  and  they  put  to  tbelt  i 
And  there' he  kept  the  ]i»acaDt 


}und  him 


Of  hsraweet  tendance  hoTerliig  over 

riil'd  all  the  BenlBl  conraea   d(   his 
blood 

loief       "         '       "'^^       "  ^"^ 
A>  the  foutb-west  Ibal  bloirlngDjlia 

Fills  nil  ths  eacred  I>ob.    So  put  Ihe 

Bnt  whllo  Geralnt  lay  healing  of  his 

ThB  hlamHless  Klnj  went  forth  and 

On  ew^  of  lOl  whom  Uthec  left  in 

Long  iliiee.  to  guard  the  JuBlloe  of  the 

no  look'd  an.l  found  them  wanHng; 

Msn  weed  the  while  horao  ou  the  Berk- 

ihlrs  hill! 
To  keep  him  bright  and  clean  as  liere- 


With  henrls  and  hands,  snd  sent  n 

thousand  men 
TaUlllhe  wastes,  and  moring  CTcry. 

Cleafd  the  dark  places  and  let  in  the 

Aud    broke    the    Itandit    holds   and 


With  Arfliurlo  Caerloon  u 


well. 


ihat  all  was 
tarrying  for  a  apace  they 


Ancl  being  ever  fotoi 

AiidviclorBtthetllt  _,.  

They  eall'd  htm  the  great  Prinet  ail 

But  Enid,  whom  her  ladles  Ian 

rail 
Enid  the  Fair,  a  grateful  peonleiu 
Knid  the  Good;    and  ia  their  I 

The  cry  of  children,  Enlds  and 

Of  times  la  be  ;  nor  did  be  doubi 

But  rented  In  herfealty,  till  he  om 
AbappylUu  withafairdeath.siil 
Against  the  heathen  uf  tkie  Nort 

In  batlle.  flghtliig  for  the  b1^ 
iiing. 

ME  RUM  AND  VmO. 

9  nf  Bromlli 
low  huge  an 

ill Merilu'afeeVtbe  wily  ViTieulvi 

The  wily  Vivien  stole  Inm  Artbsl^ 

jhe  hated  ail  the  kuighbi, 


when'  Ailhur  wslkUl  •U 

rumor  rlfo  about  lbs  Qw«i, 
her,  Vitleii,  being  giHM 

in  have  wrought  npoa  1>U 

dymood 

rant  eyes  inoek-loyal,i'i>™ 

I  r'd  adoration,  am 
c  sweet  hinU  of 
9d  lilm  more 

SllOuid    nriin  liln 

:h  theK 


With  d 


r  blankly! 
le  had  watch'd,  and  liad  nottalC> 


moat  famous  man  otsJl  0 


2fERHN  AND  riVElX. 


281 


Udlln,  who  knew  the  range  of  all 

their  arts* 
Had  built  the  King  his  havens,  ships, 

and  halls, 
Was  also  Bard,  and  knew  the  starry 

heavens  ; 
The  people  caird  him  Wizard ;   whom 

at  tiist 
She    play'd    about  with  Blight    and 

sprightly  talk, 
And  vivid  smiles,  and  faintly-venom*d 

points 
Of  slander,  glancing  here  and  gazing 

there; 
And  yielding  to  his  kindlier  moods, 

the  Seer 
Would  watch  her  at  her  i>etulance,  and 

play, 
!Eren  when  they  seem'd  unlovable,  and 

laugh 
As  those  that  watch  a  kitten  ;  thus  he 

grew 
Tolerant  of  what  hehal!  disdainM,  and 

she. 
Perceiving  that  she  was  but  half  dis- 

dainM, 
Began  to  break  her  sports  with  graver 

fits. 
Turn  red  or  pale,  would  often  when 

they  met 
81^h  fully,  or  all-silent  gaze  unon  him 
With  such  a  fixt  devotion,  that  the  old 

man. 
Tho'  doubtful,  felt  the  flattery,  and  at 

times 
Would  flatter  his  own  wish  in  age  for 

love. 
And  half  believe  her  true  :  for  thus  at 

times 
He  waver'd ;  but  that  other  clung  to 

him, 
Fixt  in  her  will,  and  so  the  saasous 

went. 
Then  fell  upon  him  a  great  melan- 
choly ; 
And  leaving  Arthur's  court  he  gain'd 

theb^u:h; 
There  found  a  little  boat,  and  stept 

into  it ; 
And  Vivien  followM,  but  he  mark'd 

her  not. 
She  took  the  helm  and  he  the  sail ;  the 

boat 
Brave  with  a  sudden  wind  across  the 

deeps. 
And  touching  Breton  sands,they  disem- 

bark'd. 
And  then  she  followed  Merlin  all  the 

way, 
Ev'n  to  the  wild  woods  of  Broceliande. 
For  Merlin  once  had  told  her  of  a 

charm. 
The  which  if  any  wrought  on  any  one 
With  woven  paces  and  with  waving 

arms. 
The  man  so  wrout^t  on  ever  seem'd  to 

lie 
Closed  in  the  four  walls  of  a  hollow 

tower.  [more ; 

From  which  was  no  escape  for  ever- 


And  none  could  find  that  man  f6r  evexw 

more, 
Nor  could  he  see  but  him  who  wrought 

the  charm 
Coming  and  i^oing,  and  he  lay  as  dead 
And  lost  to  life  and  use  and  name  and 

fame. 
And  Vivien  ever  sought  to  work  the 

chann 
Upon  the  great  Enchanter  of  the  Time, 
As  fancying,  that  her  glory  would  be 

great 
According  to  his  greatness  whom  shn 

quench' d. 

There  lay  she  all   her  length  and 

kiSs'd  his  feet. 
As  if  in  deepest  reverence  and  in  love. 
A  twist  of  gold  was  round  her  hair ;  a 

robe 
Of  samite  without  price,  that  more 

exprest 
Than  hid  her,  clung  about  her  lissome 

limbs, 
Tn  color  like  the  satin-shining  palm 
Oa  sallows  in  the  windy  gleams  of 

March  : 
And  while  she  kiss'd  them,  crying, 

**  Trample  me. 
Dear  feet,  that  I  have  follow'd  thro' 

the  world. 
And  I  will  pay  yon  worship ;  tread  me 

down 
And  I  will  kiss  you  for  it ; "  he  was 

mute  : 
So  dark  a  forethought  roll'd  about  his 

brain. 
As  on  a  dull  day  in  an  Ocean  cave 
The  blind  wave  feeling  round  his  long 

sea-hall 
In  silence  :  wherefore,  when  she  lifted 

up 
A  face  of  sad  appeal,  and  spake  and 

said, 
**  O  Merlin,  do  ye   love  me?"  and 

again, 
*'  O  Merlin,  do  ye  love  me?"  and  once 

more, 
'*  Great  Master,  do  ye  love  me?"  he 

was  mute. 
And  lissome  Vivien,  holding  by  his 

heel, 
Writhed  toward  him,   slided  up   his 

knee  and  sat, 
Beliird  his  ankle  twined  her  hollow 

feet 
Together,  curved  an  arm  about  his 

neck. 
Clung  like  a  snake ;  and  letting  her 

left  hand 
Droop  from  his  mighty  shoulder,  as  a 

leaf, 
Made  with  her  right  a  comb  of  pearl  to 

part 
The  lists  of  such  a  beard  as  youth  gone 

out 
Had  left  in  ashes  :  then  he  spoke  and 

said, 
Not  looking  at  her,  **  who  ox«  '^n^M^Va 

love 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN. 


LoTanunC,  i»r  I  tost,"  aiid 
"  I  ■»»  Ibe  !lltl6  elf-eod  ej 


"And  li 
dDi 


Acrota  her  : 

knee, 
And  ™lrrt  h< 
Cnngbt In  a 


tonguB-OrtupId 

:  InmsIlfintUien 
"  theii  oiliUug  all  at 

10  tnyMlf  with  wli- 

■httggr  maiiUa   ot  lito 


■ord.     So  Vivien  call'd 


"  Are  lhe«e  your  iiratty  Icld 
OViTlen.Hie  preamble  ?  jet 


"  What,  O  my 
[  bid  the  Itrai 


Live^^tou 


Lt  "''tLer-. 
ttae  cleft, 


■a 

uQer  TFfllcume,    Thaukfl 
you  UBTor  opon'd  ilp. 

lady  palma  I  cull'd  tlio 
ig  dropnlse  tiom 


1  pretty  0 


of  b 


ling :  then  ye 
r  gavo  me  one 

O  no  more  thnnkB  tliau  luight  a  Eost 

luve  given 
■With  no  nioro  Blgn  ol  reverence  tban  a 

beard. 
And  nben  wehnltaJ  nt  tbat  otlier  well, 

lay 
Fool-gilt  with  all  tbe  blosaom-UuHt  ol 
Dflsp  incmlows  wa  bad  traverwd,  did 
That  Vivien  balbed  youc  teet  betors 
iki :  aud  til  tliro'  tlili 


And  Merlin  iDck'd  UlahBDdl 
and  uiid  : 
'  O  did  yon  never  lie  n|»n  tbe  i 
be    currd  wblla  i 


mM  in  ibe  Bllppory  Band  bdm 
breaks? 


ol  lome  preugclil 

Had  t  for  'three  dnje  Kei 

[nil. 
And  Ibeii  I  rose  andaedfretBAitlmrt 

To  break  the  mood.     YoB  loIlorM  mi 

Diiaak'd ; 
And  when  I  look'd,  aixd  ean>  you  telle* 

Ine  atlll, 


Ine  atlll, 
iliid  Involved  youreelttbe  ummI 

a-mlat ;  for  eball  t  tell  ;M 


'■5r" 


And  ask  your  boon,  for  bo 


nr  dainty  gambols : 

1  itrange  uil  iMt 


BO  atiaage.' 
And  TlTlan  ansnefd  smiling  mJOw 

fully : 

"OnotBOBtranse  as  my  long  nUo! 

^'or  yeC  «o   strange  ai  you  jounll 

Xor  hSffm  «™ge  ai  Ihnt  datH  a»»' 

leverCaar-djitweTenotwbDllTnli;'; 
And  see,  younell  have  owu'ilyxlU 

The  people  call  yon  prophet  i  lot  t'*l 
But  not  of  Ibuea' iliac  cau  eHKHIxl 

Take  Vivien  lor  eipoundoi :  ilie  •>" 

Tbnt  lb  ree -day-long  pnHBgctal  e1°°° 

Kd  iirUugu,  but  theBiinie  Dlitnuful 


r,,r 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


28S 


Whenever  I  have  ask'd  this  very  hoon, 
Now  aekM  again :  for  see  you   not, 

dear  love, 
That  such  a  mood  as  that,  which  lately 

elooiu'd 
Your  fancy  when  you  saw  me  follow- 
ing you, 
Must   make  me  fear  still  more  you 

are  not  mine. 
Must  make  me  yearn  still  more  to  prove 

you  mine, 
▲nd  make  me  wish  still  more  to  learn 

this  charm 
Of  woven  paces  and  of  waving  hands. 
As  proof  of  trust.    O  Merlin,  teach  it 

me. 
The  charm  so  taught  will  charm  us  both 

to  rest. 
For,  grant  me  some  slight  power  upon 

your  fate, 
I,  feeling  that  you   felt  me  worthy 

trust. 
Should  rest  and  let  you  rest,  knowing 

you  mine. 
And  uierefore  be  as  great  as  you  are 

named. 
Not  muffled  round  with  selfish  reti- 
cence. 
How  hard  you  look  and  how  denyingly ! 
O.  if  you  tnink  this  wickedness  in  me. 
That  I  should  prove  it  on  you  unawares, 
To  make  you  lose  your  use  and  name 

and  lame. 
That  makes  me  most  indignant :  then 

our  bond 
Had  best  be  loosed  for  ever :  but  think 

or  not, 
By  Heaven  that  hears  I  tell  you  the 

clean  truth. 
As  clean  as  blood  of  babes,  as  white  as 

milk: 
0  Merlin,  may  this  earth,  if  ever  I, 
If  these  unwitty  wandering  wits  of 

mine, 
Ev'n  in  the  jumbled  rubbish  of  a  dream, 
Uave  tript  on  such  conjectural  treach- 
ery- 
May  this  hard  earth  cleave  to  the  Nadir 

hell 
Down,  down,  and  close  again,  and  nip 

m&flat. 
If  I  be  such  a  traitress.     Yield  my 

boon, 
Till  which  I  scarce  can  yield  you  all  I 

am: 


ft 


^nd  grant  my  re-reiterated  wish, 
^tlie  great  proof  of  your  love  :  bee 

I  think, 
however  wise,  ye  hardly  know  me  yet. 

And  Merlin  loosed  his  hand  from 

hers  and  said, 
«•  I  never  was  less  wise,  however  wise, 
Too  curious  Vivien,  tho'  you  talk  of 

trust, 
Than  when  I  told  you  first  of  such  a 

charm. 
Tea,  if  ye  talk  of  trust  I  tell  you  this, 
Too  much  I  trusted,  when  1  told  you 

that, 


And  stirr'd  this  vice  in  you  which 

ruin'd  man 
Thro'  woman  the  first  hour ;  for  how- 

soe'er 
In  children    a  great  curiousuess  be 

well. 
Who  have  to  learn  themselves  and  all 

the  world. 
In  you,  that  are  no  child,  for  still  I  find 
Your  face  is  practised,  when  1  spell  the 

lines, 
I  call  it,— well,  I  will  not  call  it  vice  : 
But  since  you  name  yourself  the  sum- 
mer fly, 
I  well  coald  wish  a  cobweb  for  tho 

gnat. 
That  settles,  beaten  back,  and  beaten 

back 
Settles,  till  one  could  yield  for  weart- 

ness  : 
But  since  I  will  not  yield  to  give  you 

power 
Upon  my  life  and  use  and  name  and 

fume. 
Why  will  you  never  ask  some  other 

boon  ? 
Yea,  by  God's  rood,  I  trusted  you  too 

much." 

And  Vivien,  like  the  tenderest-heart- 

ed  maid 
That  ever  bided  tryst  at  village  stile. 
Made  answer,  either  eyelid  wet  with 

tears. 
•<  Nay,  master,  be  not  wrathful  with 

your  maid ; 
Caress  her :  let  her  feel  herself  for- 
given 
Who  feels  no  heart  to  ask  another 

boon. 
I  think  you  hardly  know  the  tender 

rhyme 
Of  *  trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all.' 
I  heard  the  great  Sir  Lancelot  sing  it 

once. 
And  it  shall  answer  for  me.    Listen  to 

it. 

*  In  Love,  if  Love  be  Love,  if  Love  be 
ours, 
Faith  and  unfaith  can  ne'er  lie  equal 

powers: 
Unfaith  in  aught  is  want  of  faith  in  all. 

<  It  is  the  little  rfft  within  the  lute. 
That  by  and  by  will  make  the  music 

mute. 
And  ever  vridening  slowly  silence  all. 

<The  little  rift  within  the  lover's 

lute 
Or  little  pitted  speck  in  pamer'd  fruit. 
That  rotting  inward  slowly  moulders 

all. 

'  It  is  not  worth  the  keeping :  let  it 

go: 
But  shall  it  ?  answer,  darling,  answer, 

no. 
And  trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all.' 
O  master,    do    ye  love  my  tender 

rhyme  ?  •• 


^^^ 


MERLiX  AXD  VIllEX. 


And  Merlin  loak'tl  and  balf  Ijelleved 

fare. 
Bo  mrBelly  gleam'd  l»r  eyes  beblnd  lier 

Like  BUiillglil  on  the  pldit  belllnd  a 

And  jet  bo  niuwer'd  lialf  luOji^iuitlT' 

"  Far  othoc  was  tlio  B<mg  that  once  I 
heard 
BfUiishuga  oal(,eunE  neacly  vliere 

ol  ns, 

ta  tbeu  wild  voods,  tba  hart  with 

Aboot  the  founding  of  B  Tabia  Konnd 
TbM  was  to  be,  lor  lovool  God  ftud 

And  noble  doode,  tlie  flower  □(  all  the 

wDrid. 
And  enoh  iin!lt*d  eschlo  noble  deeds. 

client,  out  be 
SQch  lirsror 
Such  triuapel-blon  Ing"  In  it,  coming 
TosncbBBteniBnillron-elDBhlnE  close, 
Tliai  wlian  ba  ato[.l 

together. 
And  ihould  bn?e  done  It;   lint  tbo 

Scared  b;  the  Doiim  upstarted 


I 

J- 


TlaCglorloaB  roumlol  opbolng 
And  chase'd  the  floshcE  ol  hie  golden 


'Laugb.  liltle 

It  bBiHS  wildly  round  Iho  point  i  and 

■Wb  108t  him :  euch  a  noblo  eong  was 


AndTlvleuangwor'dHnllinEm 

'O  mlna  h«TB  ebb'd  •way  (or 

Ind  all  thro'  followtng  you  li 

wild  wood. 
Jopauie  I  saw  yon  sad.to  eomfnfl 
^o  now,  what  bearli  bava  men  I 

U  high  na  woman  In  h« 


And  RhamE,  conld  shama  bo  UilM, 
So  trust  me  not  at  all  or  allln ill.- 


Some  lost,  eoniD  ilolcn,  aome  urel 
kept. 

Ban  dawn  th9  dlken  Uireid  lo  k 

each  ntlier 
On  her  white  iieuk— go  t>  itwidill 

rhyme! 
Jt  lives  dlnpetsedly  himanyhliBil*! 
And  every  minstrel   ainga  It  dlO 

Yet  iB  there'  one  true  line,  the  puil 

■Man ^dreams  of  Fame  wbll*  *Mi 

wakes  lo  love" 
Trne  :  Love,  Uio'  Love  uttt  of  I 

A  portion  from  the  solid  nreKnt,  M 
And   naes,  careloas  of  Uia  rsH|  1 

Fume 
lbs  Fame  UiatfollonsdeatblS' 

And  what  1b  Fame  in  Ufa  bi 


And  since  yon  seem  lb 
TbHy fainwould  make 


Ted  himself  a  knlghUi'  •! 


■■•■■■^ 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN. 


285 


'Asnre,  an  Easle  riting  or,  the  Snn 
In  dexter  chief ;  the  scroll  'I  follow 

fame.' 
And  speaking  not,  but  leaning  over 

mm, 
I  took  his  brush  and  blotted  out  the 

bird. 
And  made  a  Gardener  putting  in  a 

grafl, 
With  this  for  motto, '  Rather  use  than 

fame.* 
You  should  have  seen  him  blush ;  but 

afterwards 
He  made  a  stalwart  knight.  O  Vivien, 
For  you,  methiuks  you  think  you  love 

me  well ; 
For  me,  I  love  you  somewhat ;  rest : 

and  Love 
Should  have  some  rest  and  pleasure  in 

himself. 
Not  ever  be  too  curious  for  a  boon. 
To  prurient  for  a  proof  against  the 

grain 
Of  him  you  say  you  love :  but.  Fame 

with  men. 
Being  but  ampler  means  to  serve  man- 
kind. 
Should  have  small  rest  or  pleasure  in 

herself, 
But  work  as  vassal  to  the  larger  love. 
That  dwarfs  the  petty  love  of  one  to 

one. 
Use  gave  me  Fame  at  first,  and  Fame 

again 
Increasing  gave  me  use.  Lo,  there  my 

boon! 
What  other?  for  men  sought  to  prove 

me  vile, 
Because  I  wish'd  to  give  them  greater 

minds : 
And  tlien  did  Envy  call  me  Devil's  son  : 
The  sick  weak  beast  seeking  to  help 

herself 
By  striking  at  her  better,  miss'd,  and 

brought 
Her  own  claw  back,  and  wounded  her 

own  heart. 
Sweet  were  the  days  when  I  wab  all  un- 
known. 
Bat  when  my  name  was  lifted  up,  the 

storm 
Broke  on  the  mountain  and  I  cared 

not  for  it. 
Bight  well  know  I  that  Fame  is  half- 

disfame, 
Yet  needs  must  work  my  work.    That 

other  fame, 
To  one  at  least,  who  hath  not  children, 

vM^e, 
The  cackle  of  the  unborn  about  the 

grave, 
I  eared  not  for  it :  a  single  misty  star, 
Which  is  the  second  in  a  line  of  stars 
Tliat  seem  a  sword  beneath  a  belt  of 

three, 
I  never  gazed  upon  it  but  I  dreamt. 
Of  some  vast  charm  concluded  in  tiiat 

star 
To  make  fitme  nothing.  Wherefore,  if 

I  fear, 


Giving  you  power  upon  me  tbxo*  this 

charm. 
That  you  might  play  me  falsely,  having 

power. 
However  well  you  think  you  love  me 

now 
(As  sons  of  kings  loving  in  pupilage 
Have  turn'd  to  tyrants  when  they  came 

to  power) 
I  rather  dread  the  loss  of  use  than 

fame; 
If  you— and  not  so  much  from  wicked- 
ness. 
As  some  wild  turn  of  anger,  or  a  mood 
Of  overstrained  affection,  it  may  be. 
To  keep  me  all  to  your  own  self,  or 

else 
A  sudden  spurt  of  woman's  jealousy, — 
Should  try  this  charm  on  whom  yon 

say  you  love." 

And  Vivien  answer*d  smiling  as  in 

wrath. 
*<Have  I  not  sworn?  I  am  not  trusted. 

Good  I 
Well,  hide  it,  hide  it;  I  shall  find  it 

out; 
And  being  found  take  heed  of  Vivien. 
A  woman  and  not  trusted,  doubtless  I 
Might  feel  some  sudden  turn  of  anger 

bom 
Of  your    misfaith;    and    your    fine 

epithet 
Is  accurate  too,  for  this  full  love  of 

mine 
Without  the  full  heart  back  may  merit 

well 
Your  term  of  overstrain*d.    So  used 

as  I, 
My  dally  wonder  is,  I  love  at  all. 
And  as  to  woman's  jealousy,  O  why 

not? 

0  to  what  end,  except  a  jealous  one. 
And  one  to  make  me  jealous  if  I  love, 
Was  this  fair  charm  invented  by  your- 
self? 

1  well  believe  that  all  about  this  world 
Ye  cage  a  buxom  captive  here  and 

tnere. 
Closed  in  the  four  walls  of  a  hollow 

tower 
From  which  is  no  escape  for  ever- 


*» 


more. 

Then  the  great  Master  merrily  an- 

swer'd  her. 
**  Full  many  a  love  in  loving  youth  was 

mine, 
I  needed  then  no  charm  to  keep  them 

mine 
But  youth  and  love;   and  that  full 

heart  of  yours 
Whereof  you  prattle,  may  now  assure 

you  mine ; 
So  live  uncharm'd.    For  those  who 

wrought  it  first. 
The  wrist  is  parted  from  the  hand  that 

waved. 
The  feet  unmortised  from  their  anklo* 

bones 


ilERLlN  AND  VIVIEN. 


Vtho  tLinal  it  Bgen,  bnck  :  bat  »lll  ja 
Hie  lugeiiil  ns  la   gUEcdoa  for  ]iauT 

"Tliere  lived  ft   king  In  Uie  laost 
Eaeteru  f^C, 
Lew  old  than  1 ,  yel  older,  tot  mj  b\ood. 
Hnth  eaniast  In  It  ot  far  ipilngf  to  bo. 
A  tami;  pliata  nncbor'd  In  hli  pott. 
Wtio»a    luipk    liHd   iiluudBi''d  twenty 

And  pKHliig  one,  at  the  lil|;h  peep  ol 

Re  uw  two  elUa  In  ■  Ihoni'ftnd  hoMB 


llo  lightly  gcatter'd  thai™  and  hrought 

Tier  off. 
With  low  ot  h»lt  his  peopla  arrow- 


10  from  liar  ivhei 


And 


Cils 


ilh.  thef  aickati-d  ;  « 


the  yonlh.  they 
:ils  UdluiU 


19  riiHtleBt  iron  ol  oia  llgli  ters'  ucurts ; 
id  boaatB  themeeliea  would  woriilJlii ; 

camalfi  knelt 
ibiddon.  and  the  brales  of  moDniaiii 

That  carry  kings   In   cOBtlOB,    bow'd 


lUght 


To  nuike  lier  Bmile,  her  Roldsn  ai 

balls. 
■What  wonder,  being  jcalom,  thu 

IlUhomiof  nroclnmatlon  outthrr 
The  bniidred  uude[~klngdomB  Uii 

To  find  a  wiiard  who  might  tasel 

Klnc 
Soma   ehann,   irhieh   being  i 

npou  the  Queen 
Mlgbt  keep  bet  all  lila  own  :  to  lucU  a 

Hb  promised  mora  than  ever  king  Iim 

A  leu^jue  uF  raounlAln  full  of  golden 

A  pnivlni:e  with  a  hundred  nillea  oC 

A  palaae  kiid  a  orln 

the  King" 
Prononncod  a  dlamal  bo 
jug  by  It 


To  keep  the  list  low  and  pretendM 

Or  like  n  king,  not  to  be  triae<1  *<l]i- 
Thelr  beads  ehould  moulder  ou  tin 

dty  gates. 
And  many  tded  and  fail'd,  becsnu  Uu 

Of  natui'e  in  her  overbore  their  mn  : 
And  jnmiy  a  wizard  brow  hlcadi'd  cot 

And  many  weeke  a  troop  of  ar^oa 

Hung  Uka  it  cloud  above  Uis  ffUimi 

And  Vivien  breaking  in  upon  liln 
said: 
"I  sit   and  gather  honey;  yel,  uw- 

Your  tongue  hoi  tilpt  a  UttlO!  uk 

Tlie  lady  never  made  unwilJinfl  irar 
With  thoH  flno   eyee:  she  W  M 

pleasure  in  it. 
And  made  her  good  man  jealoiu  villi 

And  lived  there nelUier  dame  uai  ilur 

I  mean,  as  noble,  as  lliek  Qncen  m 

Not  one  to  dirt  a  venom  at  her  isy«, 
Oi  pinch  a  mordei-ous  duet  liuo  w 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


287 


Nor  owiiM  a  fteiiBual  wish,  to  liim  the 

wall 
Tliat  sunders  ghonts  and  shadow-cast- 

ing  men 
Became  a  cr^'stal,  and  he  saw  thdm 

thro'  it, 
And  heard  their  voices  talk  behind  the 

wall. 
And  learnt  their  elemental   secrets, 

powers 
And  forces ;  often  o*ertho  sun's  bright 

eye 
Drew  the  vast  eyelid  of  an  inky  cloud, 
And  lash'd  it  at  the  base  with  slanting 

storm  ; 
Or  in  the  noon  of  mist  and  driving 

rain, 
When  the  lake  whften*d  and  the  pine- 
wood  roar'd. 
And  the    cairn'd    mountain  was    a 

shadow,  sunn'd 
The  world  to  peaco  again :  here  was 

the  man. 
And  so  bv  force  they  dragg'd  him  to 

the  King. 
And  then  he  taught  the  King  to  charm 

the  Queen 
In  such-wise,  that  no  man  could  see 

her  more. 
Nor   saw  she    save  the  King,   who 

wrought  the  charm. 
Coming  and   going,  and  she   lay  as 

dead. 
And  lost  all  use  of  life :  but  when  the 

King 
Made  proffer  of  the  league  of  golden 

mines, 
The  province  wlfh  a  hundred  miles  of 

coast. 
The  palace  and  the  princess,  that  old 

man 
Went  back  to  his  old  wild,  and  lived 

on  grass, 
And  vanishM,  and  liis  book  came  down 

to  me." 

And  Vivien  answer'd  smiling  saucily ; 
**  You  have  the  l)ook :  the  charm  is 

written  in  It : 
CkxMl :  take  my  counsel :  let  me  know 

it  at  once : 
For  keep  it  like  a  pnzzle  chest  in  chest, 
With  each  chest  lock'd  and  padlock'd 

thirty-fold. 
And  whelm  all  thia  beneath  as  vast  a 

mound 
As  after  furious  battle  turfs  the  slain 
On  some  wild  down  above  the  windy 

deep, 
I  yet  should  strike  upon  a  sudden 

means 
To  dig.  pick,  open,  find  and  read  the 

charm : 
Then,  If  I  tried  it,  who  should  blame 

me  then  ?  " 

And  smiling  as  a  Master  smiles  at 
one 
lliat  is.  not  of  his  school,  nor  any 
•chool 


But  that  where  blind  and  naked  Ignor- 
ance 

Delivers  brawling  Judgments,  un- 
ashamed. 

On  all  tilings  all  day  long ;  he  answer'd 
her. 

**  Ym%  read  the  book,  my  pretty  Viv- 
ien ! 
O  ay,  it  Is  but  twenty  pages  long. 
But  every   page   lutvlng    an    ample 

marge, 
And  every  marge  enclosing  In  the 

midst 
A  square  of  text  that  looks  a  little 

blot, 
The  text  no  larger  than  the  limbs  of 

fleas: 
And  every  square  of  text  an  awful 

charm. 
Writ  In  a  language  that  has  long  gone 

by. 
So  lon^,  that  mountains  have  arisen 

since 
With  cities  on  their  flanks— you  read 

the  book ! 
And  every  margin  scribbled.  crost,and 

cramm'd 
With  comment,  densest  condensation, 

hanl 
To  mind  and  eye ;  but  the  long  sleep- 
less nights 
Of  my  long  life  have  made  It  easy  to 

me. 
And  none  can  read  the  text,  not  even 

1; 

And  none  can  read  the  comment  but 

myself  ; 
And  In  the  comment  did  I  find  the 

charm. 
O.  the  results  are  simple ;  a  mere  child 
Might  use  it  to  the  harm  of  any  one. 
And  never  could  undo  it :  ank  no  more: 
For  tho'  you  should  not  prove  it  upon 

me. 
But  keep,  that  oath  you  swore,  you 

might,  perchance, 
Assay  it  on  some  one  of  tho  Table 

Round, 
And  all  because  you  dream  they  babble 

of  you." 

And  Vivien,  frowning  in  true  anger, 

said: 
"  What  dare  the  full-fed  liars  say  of 

me? 
They  ride  abroad  redressing  human 

wronss ! 
They  sit  with  knife  in  meat  and  wine 

In  horn. 
They  bound  to  holy  vows  of  chastity  ! 
Were  I  not  woman,  I  could  tell  a  tale. 
But  you  are  man,  you  well  can  under- 
stand 
Tho  shame  that  cannot  be  explaln'd 

for  shame. 
Notoneof  all  the  drove  should  toucU 

m» :  swine  ! " 

Then  answer'd  Merlin  careless  of  her 
wordt. 


V 


MERLIS  AND  VIVIEN. 


^ 


"  Vb  breBilia  but  accamtioi 
Spleen-born.  I  tlilnli,  and  pi' 
Sat  up  tha  Pbarge  jo  know,  t 


onawor'd 
t  lo  SlrTa 


wraiMully. 

-  -'— iftyyelof 

lUi  left  Mid  wutcbor 


And 
'■  O  ny,  whi  . 

Iita  wire 
And  two  fair  bsboi,  and  «onC  I 

Unt  latidu  i 
Waaouoyear  gpne,  aiidon  rotuinlng 

Not  two  bat  three :  theio  lay  Iba  reck- 
ling, ona 
Bat  one  hour  old  ]     What  said  Uio 

Aseien  moDtbi'lmbBhadbesnatraor 

I  confused 


bia  faCherhi 


Onedindtbavhad: 

Hhi  kinsnian  tiave 

artnir 
aa  clmnred  by  Yalt 

tba  child. 
a  brooKht,  not  fm 

lake  the  truUi. 

"0«y,"«rid 


und  It  Iherotore ; 


ynyal,  lay  ye  liien 

ThatatdBnlman?  'toploofcthodower 

So  Bays  the  lODg,  <  I  troiv  It  la  no  trea- 

O  Maalerl  Bball  vb  cnll  bim  nvcmnlck 
To  crop  Ills  uwu  Biveei  roflo  beluta  UiB 

And   Merlin  Bnawer'd  "  Orerquick 

Tocnlchalothlyplumefall'n  from  the 

Of  that  foul  bird  of  rapine  whoee  whole 

la  man's  good  name  ;  ha  never  ttrone'd 
hialiridp. 

tale.   An  angry  guBt  of 

IB  torch  amone  (he  myriad 


PufTd  out  1 


And  darkling  felt  the  tculptared  oma- 
nist  wrealhen  round  It,  made  it  lecm 


liileai  luan    baaldei  a  iM 
blthar  ilspt,  nor  knen  of  Mbtr 
le  high  dawn  piercing  Urn 


Bluahin* 

Ha  rose  without  a  word  and  pirtdl 

from  her : 
But  wbeii  the  thing  traa  blaIed>^ 

the  court. 
The  brute  world  Lowllna  forced  U 

Into  bonda, 

ihanced  Uiey   are  hip 


being  pi 
"  0  ay."  aald  %'1t 


"  that  HI 


..    ... ^  fair  Sir  PetflttH 

And  of  t]ie   horrid  fouhieaa  llial  Id 

The  Balnily  youth,  the  flpoilcn  lint 

of  Clirist, 
Or  Bome  black  wether  of  81.  SitU'i 

told, 
at,  ill  the  preclncli  of  the  eliaptl- 

oiig   the  knightly  braaaei  el  Ika 

1  f;- 


)   oold  nio  Jacela  of  lb« 


i 


And  Merlin  anawGr'd  carelOM  ol  tMt 
"  A  sober  man  l>  Perdyale  and  pttw ; 

Then  paced  for  coolne^a  in  the  eliic*'' 

'Where  one  of  Satan's  shepheidCUH 

caught 
And  meant  to  aUmp  him  WlUi  kci 

maater'e  mark ; 
And  that  he  aiiiii'd.  Is  not  bellei 
upon  hla  face  t~  but 


(riand  ? 
Traitor  or  true  ? 
Cie  Que«D, 


MERLIN  AND  VIVIEN 


289 


I  Mk  you,  is  it  clamored  by  the  child. 
Or  whisper'd  in  the  corner  ?  do  yoa 
iLnowit?** 

To  which  he  answer'd  sadly,  *<  Yea,  I 
know  it. 

Sir  Lancelot  went  ambassador,  at  first, 

To  fetch  her,  and  she  took  him  for  the 
King: 

So  fixt  her  fancy  on  him  :  let  him  be. 

But  have  you  no  one  word  of  loyal 
praise 

For  Arthur,  blameless  King  and  stain- 
less man  ?  " 

She  an8wer*d  with  a  low  and  chuck- 
ling laugh ; 

**  Him  ?  is  he  man  at  all,  who  knows 
and  winks  ? 

Sees  what  his  fair  bride  is  and  does, 
and  winks? 

By  which  the  good  king  means  to 
blind  himself. 

And  blinds  himself  and  all  the  Table 
Round 

To  all  the  foulness  that  the3'  work. 
Myself 

Could  call  him  (were  it  not  for  woman- 
hood) 

The  pretty,  popular  name  sox^h  man- 
hood earns, 

Could  call  him  the  main  cause  of  all 
their  crime ; 

Yea,  were  he  not  crown'd  king,  coward, 
and  fooL'* 

Then  Merlin  to  his  own  heart,  loath- 
ing, said ; 

**  O  true  and  tender  !  O  my  liege  and 
king! 

O  selfless  man  and  stainless  gentleman. 

Who  wouldst  a^nst  thine  own  eye- 
witness fain 

Have  all  men  true  and  leal,  all  women 
pure; 

How,  in  the  mouths  of  base  interpre- 
ters. 

From  over-fineness  not  intelligible 

To  things  with  every  sense  as  utlse  and 
foul 

As  the  poach'd  filth  that  floods  the 
middle  street. 

Is  thy  white  blomelessness  accounted 
blame  !*' 

But  Vivien  deeming  Merlin  over- 
borne 

By  instance,  recommenced,  and  let 
her  tongue 

Bags  like  a  fire  among  the  noblest 
names, 

Polluting,  and  imputing  her  whole 
sell. 

Defaming  and  defacing,  till  she  left 

Kot  even  Lancelot  brave,  nor  Qalahad 
clean. 

•Her  words  had  issue  other  than  she 
willU 
Hednigg'dhis  eyebrow  bushes  down, 
•namade 


A  snowy  penthouse  for  his  hollow  eyes. 
And  mutter'd  in  himself,  *'  tell  her  the 

charm  I 
So,  if  she  had  it,  would  she  rail  on  me 
To  snare  the  next,  and  if  she  have  it 

not. 
So  will  she  rail.    What  did  the  wan- 
ton say? 
*  Not  mount  as  high ; '  we  scarce  can 

sink  as  low  : 
For  men  at  most  differ  as  Heaven  and 

earth. 
But  women,  worst  and  best,  as  Heaven 

and  Hell. 
I  know  the  Table  Round,  my  filends 

of  old  ; 
All  brave,  and  many  generous,  and 

some  chaste. 
I  think  she  cloaks  the  wounds  of  loss 

with  lies ; 
I  do  believe  she  tempted  them  and 

fail'd. 
She  is  so  bitter  :  for  fine  plots  may  fail, 
Tho*  harlots  pahit  their  talk  as  well 

as  face 
With  colors  of  the  heart  that  are  not 

theirs. 
I  will  not  let  her  know:  nine  tithes 

of  times 
Face-flatterers  and  backbiters  are  the 

same. 
And  they,  sweet  soul,  that  most  im- 
pute a  crime 
Arepronest  to  it,  and  impute  them- 
selves, 
Wanting  the  mental  range ;  or  low 

desire 
Not  to  feel  lowest  makes  them  level 

all; 
Yea,  they  would  pare  the  mountain  to 

the  plain. 
To  leave  an  equal  baseness ;  and  in  this 
Ai-e  harlots  like  the  crowd,  that  if  they 

find 
Some  stain  or  blemish  in  a  name  of 

note. 
Not  grieving  that  their  greatest  are  so 

small, 
Inflate  themselves  with  some  insane 

delight, 
And  judge  all  nature  from  her  feet  of 

clay. 
Without  the  will  to  lift  their  eyes,  and 

see 
Her  godlike  head  crowned  with  spirit- 
ual fire. 
And  touching  other   worlds.     I  am 

weary  of  her." 

He  spoke  in  words  part  heard,  in 

wnispers  part. 
Half-suffocated  in  tne  hoary  fell 
And  many-wiuter'd'fleece  of  throat  and 

chin. 
But  Vivien,  gathering  somewhat  of  hia 

mood. 
And  hearing  *'  harlot "  mutter'd  twioo 

or  thnce. 
Leapt  from  her  testion  on  his  lap,  and 

:}tood 


h 


\ 


Howfrui 


ilglit. 


itEHLlN  A. 


ND  UVIEX. 
Becoms*  tbeira 


U 


WMto  wM  ber  choelt ;  flbnrp  lirealUs 

of  aiL^r  pulT'd 
Her  Mry  iHMidl  oui;  liei  luuid  Ualf- 

IfenC  talteHiic  ^ilenayB  donuH'snl  to 

her  belt, 
Andleelliigi  hodabclouiid  a  dagger 

(for  111  a  wink  tbe  false  love  tutiiB  lo 

bate) 
Sbe  iruuld  bare  etBbb'il  111  in  ;  but  she 

fDiuidlliiot: 
HU  eye  vim  udin,  aiid  sucldeiily  sba 

To  Wtler  weeping  like  ■  beaten  child, 


A  long.  Iffllg  WBBpi 


pneller  tliaii  wm  eTcr  told  in 

in  Bong  '.    O  vslnl;  laTl«b'd 

I.  there  was  uotliiiig  wild  or 

jiig  Bhamef  Hi,  fornhab  Bbama 

86lotabelrUB,ondiiot  Dflyouts  is  — 

VlTlenliad  not  done  to  nin  his 

Wlio  coll'd  her  what  he  catl'd  bar—  &1! 
■     >, 

I    wish  to   prove   him 


her  Clime, 
wholly  lien 


I 


Bhc  miueil  a  Utile,  anil  then  clapt 
her  buida 
Together  with  a  wnilluB  nhilek,  and 

•■Stabb'd   through  tbe  heart's   atCec- 

tloiia  to  the  heart ; 
Seetbeil  like  the  kid  In  ila  own  mother's 

milk  1 
Kill'd  with  n  word  woise  Ihau  a  life  of 

I  ttaoaglic  that  he  was  gentle,  being 

0  Ho^Hiatl  hadloTEja  Bmnller  raaii! 

1  sbouhl  liavs  lumul  In  tilni  a  greater 

O,  I,  that  flattering  mj  true  panalon, 

Tbe  kiilahtB.  the  court,  the  king,  dark 

111  your  light. 
"Who  love  to  makeiaen  darker  than 

tbey  arc, 
BecauBc  of  that  high  pleoBuro  whioh  I 

Of  wot»lil  o— 1  am  auswec'd,  and  bence- 
The  couraa  of  Ufa  Uiat  Becm'd  so 
Wllb  you  for  guide  and  masWr,  only 


cllflpalliwajbiclln 
uln— notlilnslen, 


:erable  uiiklndliiwt" 


She  paused,   she  tom'd 

hung  her  bead. 

rho  snake  of  tjDld  tlld  froi 


Tn  «ileiife.  while  lila  niiger  dlowlydM 

Within  him,  Ull  be  lei  Ills  wtair 

For  ease  oC  beart,  and  halt  bebet 


Ca;Vd  her  to  sheller  In  the  hotloviist, 
Ehoiiiaer.  inl 


"  Come  from  the  e: 


ihefac 


i  bearli 


Hand-bidde 

Then  thrice' 

To  BlEEk  her 

At  last  she  let  benelf 


'd,    by    lenlfRtt- 

peace  of  mliid,!! 

cou^oit'iltl 


Andes  tbe  cagellng  n 

E'ming -injured    Blmplfrbeutcil 

old   perch  buk,  uH 


Came  to   her 

aetUed  there. 
There  while  die  Mt,  halt-talllnl  fnra 

naU-iieeUed  a 

The  Blow  tear 

eyeii'i  <" 
About  k 

k 


.hia  heart,  and  (Inn  1« 
creep  from  her  (loKil 

irdraBtnshieldlngsni. 


ButebedlBllnk' 

Her  arms  upon  her  breaal  >ctm>,>i>iI 

A     TlrtBoUB      gontlewoomn     ilMplf 

UTOUB-d, 

rprigbtanaHuBh'd before  blm:  I 
abeaald: 
■'  There  must  be  now  no  pnswpi 


ivould  reckon  worili  Ihe 

will  BO, 

In  trnth,  but  one  thing 
Tbriee  (ban  baveaalt'dlt 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


291 


Hiat  proof  of  trust— bo  often  asked  in 

vain  I 
How  justly,  after  that  vile  term  of 

yours, 
I  find  with  grief !  I  might  believe  you 

then, 
Who  knows?  once  more.  O,  what  was 

once  to  me 
Mere  matter  of  the  fancy,  now  has 

grown 
The  vast  necessity  of  heart  and  life. 
Farewell ;  think  kindly  of  me,  for  I 

fear 
My  fate  or  fault,  omitting  gayer  youth 
For  one  so  old,  must  be  to  love  you 

still. 
But  ere  I  leave  you  let  me  swear  once 

more 
That  if  I  schemed  against  your  peace 

in  this, 
May  yon  just  heaven,  that  darkens 

o'er  me,  send 
(Hie  flash,  that,  missing  all  things  else, 

may  make 
My  scheming  brain  a  cinder,  if  I  lie." 

Scarce  had  she  ceased,  when  out  of 

heaven  a  bolt 
(For  now  the  storm  was  close  above 

them)  struck, 
Furrowing  a  giant  oak,  and  javelining 
With  darted  spikes  and  splinters  of  the 

wood 
The  dark  eaith  round.    Ho  raised  his 

eyes  and  saw 
The  tree  that  shone  white-listed  thro* 

the  gloom. 
But  Vivien,  fearing  heaven  had  heard 

her  oath. 
And  dazzled  bv  the  livid  flickering  fork. 
And  deafcn'd  with  the  stammering 

cracks  and  claps 
That  follow*d,  flying  back  and  crying 

out, 
•*0  Merlin,  tho'  you  do  not  love  me, 

save. 
Vet  save   mc ! "   clung  to  him  and 

hugg'd  him  close ; 
And  call'd  him  dear  protector  in  her 

fright, 
Nor  yet  forgot  her  practice  in  her 

fright. 
But  wrought    upon    his   mood  and 

hugg'd  him  close. 
The  pale  blood  of  the  wizard  at  her 

touch 
Took  gayer  colors,  like  an  opal  warm'd. 
She  blamed  herself  for  telhng  hearsay 

tales : 
She  shook  from  fear,  and  for  her  fault 

she  wept 
Of  i>etulancy ;  she  caird  him  lord  and 

liege. 
Her  seer,  her  bard,  her  silver  star  of 

eve. 
Her  Ood,  her  Merlin,  the  one  passion- 
ate love 
Of  her  whole  life ;  and  ever  overhead 


Snapt  in  the  rnshins  of  the  river  rain 
Above  them ;  and  ni  change  of  glare 

and  gloom 
Her  eyes  and  neck  glittering  went  and 

came; 
Till  now  the  storm,  its  burst  of  pas 

sion  spent. 
Moaning  and  calling  out  of  other  lands. 
Had  left  the  ravaged  woodland  yet 

once  more 
To  peace ;  and  what  should  not  have 

been  had  been. 
For  Merlin,  overtalk'd  and  overworn. 
Had  yielded,  told  her  all  the  charm, 

and  slept. 

Then,  in  one  moment,  she  put  forth 

the  charm 
Of  woven  paces  and  of  waving  hands, 
And  in  the  hollow  oak  he  lay  as  dead. 
And  lost  to  life  and  use  and  name  and 

fame. 

Then  crying  "  I  have  made  his  glory 
mine." 

And  shrieking  out "  O  fool !  "  the  har- 
lot leapt 

Adown  the  forect,  and  the  thicket 
closed 

Behind  her,  and  the  forest  echo*d 
"fool." 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 

Elaixe  the  fair,  Elaine  the  lovable, 
Elaine,  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat, 
High  in  her  chamber  up  a  tower  to  the 

east 
Guarded  the  sacred  shield  of  Lance- 
lot; 
Which  lirst  she  placed  where  mom- 

ins's  earliest  ray 
Might  strike  it,  and  awake  her  with 

the  gleam ; 
Then  fearing  rust  or  soilure  fashiou*d 

for  it 
A  case  of  silk,  and  braided  thereupon 
All  the  devices  blazon'd  on  the  shield 
In  their  own  tinct,  and  added,  of  her 

wit, 
A  border  fantasy  of  branch  and  flower. 
And  yellow-thioated  nestling  in  the 

nest. 
Nor  rested  thus  content,  but  day  by 

day 
Leaving  her  household  and  good  father 

climb'd 
That    easteni    tower,  and    entering 

barrVl  her  door, 
Stript  off  the  case,  and  read  the  naked 

shield. 
Now  guess'd  a  hidden  meaning  in  his 

arms. 
Now  made  a  pretty  history  to  herself 
Of  every  dint  a  sword  had  beaten  in  it. 
And  every  scratch  a  lance  had  made 

upon  it. 


ux  ner  wnoie  iiie ;  ana  ever  overneaa  upon  id, 

Bellow'd  the  tempest,  and  the  rotten     Conjecturing  when  and  where  :  this 
branch  ^  cut  is  fresh ; 


v 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE, 


293 


*Slr  Kinff,  mine  ancient  wound  is 
lianuy  whole, 

And  lets  me  from  the  saddle ; "  and 
tiie  King 

Glanced  first  at  him,  then  her,  and 
went  his  way. 

Ko  sooner  gone  than  suddenly  she  be- 
gan. 

**To  blame,  my  lord  Sir  Lancelot, 

much  to  blame. 
Why  ffo  ye  not  to  these  fair  jousts  ?  the 

Icnights 
Are  half  of  them  our  enemies,  and  the 

crowd 
Will  murmur,  lo  the  shameless  ones, 

who  take 
Their  pastime  now  the  trustful  king  is 

gone !  *• 
Then  Lancelot  vext  at  having  lied  in 

vain : 
**  Are  ye  so  wise  ?  ye  were  not  once  bo 

wise. 
My  Queen,  that  summer,  when  ye 

loved  me  lirst. 
Then  of  the  crowd  ye  took  no  more  ac- 
count 
Than  of  the  myriad  cricket  of  the 

mead. 
When  its  own  voice  clings  to  each 

blade  of  grass, 
And  every  voice  is  nothing.    As  to 

kidgnts, 
Them  surely  can  I  silence  with  all 

ease. 


But  now  my  loyal  worship  is  allow'd 
U  men : 
fence, 


Of  all  men  :  many  a  bard,  without  of 


X 


Has  link'd  our  names  together  in  his 

lay, 
Lancelot,  the  flower  of  bravery,  Guine- 
vere, 
The  pearl  of  beauty  :  and  our  knights 

at  feast 
Have  pledged  us  in  this  union,  while 

tne  king 
Would  listen  smiling.    How  then  ?  is 

there  more  ? 
Has  Arthur  spoken  aught?  or  would 

yourself. 
Now  weary  of  my  service  and  devoir, 
Henceforth  be  truer  to  your  faultless 

lord?" 

She  broKe  into  a  little  scornful 
laugh. 

•<  Arthur,  my  lord,  Arthur,  the  fault- 
less King. 

That  passionate  perfection,  my  good 

But  who  can  gaze  uiK>n  the  Sun  in 
heaven  ? 

He  never  spake  word  of  reproach  to 
me. 

He  never  had  a  glimpse  of  mine  un- 
truth, 

He  cares  not  for  me :  only  here  tonlay 

There  gleam*d  a  vague  suspicion  in 
hueyes  : 

Some  meddling  rogue  h&s  tamper*d 
With  hiiii--e]fle 


Bapt  in  this  fancy  of  his  Table  Round, 
And  swearing  men  to  vows  impossible. 
To  make  them    like    himself:   but, 

friend,  to  me 
He  is  all  fault  who  hath  no  fault  at 

all: 
For  who  loves  me  must  have  a  touch 

of  earth ; 
The  low  sun  makes  the  color:  I  am 

yours. 
Not  Arthur's,  as  ye  know  save  by  the 

bond. 
And  therefore  hear  my  words :  go  to 

the  Jousts : 
The  tiny-tmmpeting  gnat  can  break 

our  dream 
When  sweetest ;  and  the  vermin  voices 

here 
May  buzz  so  loud— we  scorn  them,  but 

they  sting." 

Then  answered  Lancelot,  the  chief  of    \ 
knights. 

**  And  with  what  face,  after  my  pre- 
text made. 

Shall  I  appear,  O  Queen,  at  Camelot,  I 

Before  a  king  who  honors  his  own 
word. 

As  if  it  were  his  God*s  ?  " 


"  Yea,'*  said  the  Queen, 
**  A  moral  child  without  the  craft  to 

rule. 
Else  had  he  not  lost  me :  but  listen  to 

me. 
If  I  must  find  you  wit :  we  hear  it  said 
That  men  go  down  before  your  spear 

at  a  touch 
But  knowing  you  are  Lancelot;  your 

great  name. 
This  conquers  :  hide  it  therefore  ;  go 

unknown  : 
Win !  by  this  kiss  you  will :  and  our 

true  king 
Will  then  allow  your  pretext,  O  my 

knight. 
As  all  for  glory;   for  to  speak  him 

true, 
Ye  know  right  well,  how  meek  soe*er 

he  seem, 
No  keener  hunter  after  glory  breathes. 
He  loves  it  in  his  knights  more  than 

himself :  | 

They  prove  to  him  his  work :  win  and    ( 

return." 


Then  got  Sir  Lancelot  suddenly  to    \ 
horse,  S 

Wroth  at  himself:  not  willing  to  be 
known. 

He  left  the  barren-beaten  thorough- 
fare. 

Chose  the  green  path  that  show'd  the 
rarer  foot. 

And  there  among  the  solitary  downs. 

Full  often  lost  in  fancy,  lost  nis  way ; 

Till  as  he  traced  a  faintly-shadow'd 
track. 

That  all  in  loops  and  links  among  the 

«       dales 


\ 


"rtlfca-ti'MTI 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


I 


i  Idiicelot  marTDll'il  at  (Uc  v,-<:it<1- 


[,"ivl  of 


1<» 
At^i\  Inuiiig  foil  ml 
Willi  two  «troiig  I 

Sir  IdT^ie. 
Moving  tu   meet  lilm   In  the   cBstle 

And  clo«e  belilml  Ihein  slept  Uie  lilj 

Elaine.  lOa  dauglit«r;  moUieF  of  tlie 

There  v/at  iiot :  «ome  llglit  Jest  among 

■With  UuBhterdyliie  down  AaiheE"»t 

ApproaclTil  Itieni :  then  lbs  Lotij 

"  WhencB  comest  tliou,  my  guest,  i 

IJTOBt  Mtweeji  Iho  lipi7  lor  hj-  thy 

lalght  guas 


mr  lufUbiMd,  ha  viu  lUi 


I'o  u 


Bsfi 


Nay.  [nther,  naf  good  father.i 
knishf'sda: 
For  nollllllg.    8iirel;I  bat^qr'deq 
[e  seein'd  bo  sullen,  Text  ho  could  i 
for,  linlglit,  tlse  nn 
bU  diamond  In  I 
illpnorytobabi 


Thof 


1,  belikr 


Tlialf^Iwautanaifl'ft 

(Butallnaa  jest  and  Joke  iuaoiigoi» 

IlienmuBCEbakeeplteafeller.  AUnl 

Bat  father BivsmelBovB.nmllflieWIl,: 
To  rido  ift  Cameiot  ntth  Ui(-  — "^ 

knight : 
Win  Bholl  I  not,  but  do  mj  h« 


JiTonrhllm 


(rlend ; 
id  you  Blisll 


"So  ye  wilt  grace 

Smllbig  n  moment, "  n 

)'er  these  wasto  downs  whereon  I  lo« 
myself, 

'  glad  of  you  as  piTdo  ml 

dlamoml-w  I 

[^r'l>»0  illBmand.— ir  Tsmoi 
'-'■'  '•  — '■"■  -laideii.if  venlH." 
ua."ndiledl>-'- 
I  uttl  not  for 
Then  Bbe,  who  held  ber  eyes  npen  lU' 

Elaine,  ami  heard  her  uuna  to 

about, 
FlusbMsUghUy  at  the  alight  illitand' 

Before  the  itrangar  knight,  who. 
'ng  at  Ler, 
'Oiirtly.  yet  not  falsely,  Uut 


'If  wbi 

A.nd  only  Queens  are 

Itaab  wore   my  judgment   I 

deem  this  maid 
Might  wear  aa  talr  a  Jewel 


whatltfil^ 

t   Uwu.  «IN 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


295 


He  spoke  nnd  censed :  the  Illy  maid 
Klaine, 

Won  by  the  mellow  voice  before  she 
look'd. 

Lifted  her  eyes,  and  read  his  linea- 
ments. 

Tlie  great  and  guilty  love  he  bare  the 
Qaeen, 

In  battle  with  tlie  love  he  bare  his  lord, 

Had  marr'd  his  face,  and  mark'd  it  ere 
his  time. 

Another  sinning  on  such  heights  with 
one, 

The  flower  of  all  tiie  west  and  all  the 
world. 

Had  been  the  sleeker  of  it :  but  in  him 

His  mood  was  often  like  a  liend,  and 
rose 

And  drove  him  into  wastes  and  soli- 
tudes 

For  agony,  who  was  yet  a  living  soul. 

Marr'd  as  he  was,  he  seem'd  the  good- 
liest man, 

That  ever  among  ladies  ate  in  Hall, 

And  noblest,  when  she  lifted  up  her 
eyes. 

However  marr*d,  of  more  than  twice 
her  years, 

Seam*d  with  an  ancient  swordcut  on 
the  cheek,  • 

And  bruised  and  bronzed,  she  lifted  up 
her  eyes 

And  loved  him,  with  that  love  which 
was  her  doom. 

Then  the  great  knight,  the  darling  of 

the  court. 
Loved  of  the  loveliest,  into  that  rude 

hall 
Stept  with  all  grace,  and  not  with  half 

disdain 
Hid  under  grace,  as  in  a  smaller  time, 
But  kindly  man  moving  among  his 

kind: 
Whom  they  with  meats  and  vintage  of 

their  best 
And  talk  and  minstrel  melody  enter- 

tain*d. 
And  much  they  ask*d  of  court  and 

Table  Bound, 
And  ever  well  and  readily  answerM  he: 
But  Lancelot,  when  they  glanced  at 

Guinevere, 
Snddenly  speaking  of  the  wordless  man , 
Heard  from  the  Baron  that,  ten  years 

before, 
The  heathen  caught  and  reft  him  of  his 

tongue. 
**He  learnt  and  wani*d  me  of  their 

fierce  design 
Against  my  house,  and  him  they  caught 

and  maim'd ; 
But  I  my  sons  and  little  daughter  fled 
From  bonds  of  death,  and  dwelt  among 

the  woods 
By  the  great  river  in  a  boatman's  hut. 
Dull  days  were  those,  till  our  good 

Arthur  broke 
The  Pagan  yet  once  more  on  Badon 


»• 


"O  there,  great  I-ord,  doubtless, 

T^avaine  said,  rapt 
By  all  the  sweet  and  sudden  passion  of 

youth. 
Toward  greatness  in  its  elder,  *'you 

have  fought. 
O  tell  us — for  we  live  apart — ^you  know 
Of  Arthur's  glorious  wars."    And  Lan- 
celot spoke 
And  answer*  d  him  at  full,  as  having 

been 
With  Arthur  in  the  fight  which  all  day 

long 
Bang  by  the  white  mouth  of  the  violent 

Glem; 
And  in  tlie  four  wild  battles  by  the 

shore 
Of.Duglas;  that  on  Bassa;  then  the 

'  war  I 

Tliat  thunder'd  in  and  out  the  gloomy 

skirts 
Of  Celidon  the  forest :  and  again 
By  castle  Guniion  where  the  glorious 

King 
Had  on  his  cuirass  worn  our  Lady's 

Head, 
Carved  on  one  emerald,  center'd  in  a 

sun 
Of  silver  rays,  that  lighten'd  as  he 

breathed ; 
And  at  Caerleon  had  he  help'd  his  lord. 
When  the  strong  ueighings  of  the  wild 

white  Horse 
Set  every  gilded  parapet  shuddering  ; 
And  up  in  Agned  Cathregonion  Uyo, 
And  down  uie  waste  saud-shores  of 

Trath  Treroit, 
Where  many  a  heathen  fell ;  "  and  on 

the  mount 
Of  Badon  I  myself  beheld  the  King 
Charge  at  the  head  of  all  his  'J'able 

Bound, 
And  all  his  legions  crying  Christ  and 

him. 
And  break  them ;  and  I  saw  him,  after, 

stand 
High  on  a  heap  of  slain,  from  spur  to 

plume 
Bed  as  the  rising  sun  with  heathen 

blood. 
And  seeing  me,  with  a  great  voice  he 

cried 
*  They  are  broken,  they  are  broken,  for 

the  King, 
However  mild  he  seems  at  home,  nor 

cares 
For  triumph  in  our  mimic  wars,  the 

Jousts — 
For  if  his  own  knight  cast  him  down, 

he  laughs 
Saying,  his  knights  are  better  men  than 

Yet  in  this  heathen  war  the  fire  of  God 
Fills  him :  I  never  saw  his  like  :  there 

lives 
No  greater  leader." 

While  he  utter'd  this. 
Low  to  her  own  heart  said  the  lily  maid 
*<  Save  your  great  self,  fair  lord  \ "  and 

wnen  he  fell 


f 


^HH 


My  fsvor  at  I 
■Tair  iBdy,' 

Sndi'la  my  w 


I 


Soe  LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 

From  talk  ol  nur  to  InlU  of  iilesvui- 

Belos  mlrlLful  lia  but  In   n  lUtely 

kliid— 
Slie  sUll  took  note  tttat  wbeii  llie  llrlns 

Died  Irom  bia  lips,  aeroa  Mm  camo  a 

Of    melBiiriiDlj   severe,  (rem    wliidi 

Wlien^ev'fii  liar  hovering  to  biHI  tro 
Tbe  lllv  maid  luul  striven  to  nioka  him 

Tliers  brake  a  suililcu-bcamhig  tender- 

imlurc,  aiid  sba 

.11,  perctionce,  for 

ig  bis  face  before 


iierlivei.. 
_..      Iieii  a  [laiiiter,  poring  Olio  taee, 
IHvluely  tbro'  oil  Lunlraiiae  llndi  iba 


,  and  so  pnlnts 


n  tbatU 


and  life, 


Sm  tor  Ilia  diildrei 

And  fnlleat:   so  tbo  fa«e  before  Let 

Hied, 
Daric-ipioiidld,  speaking 


fall 


lntbe«IIonve, 
mdboldlior  from  Lac 

Till  lalbe  s'be  toso,  Imlf-cbcntod  In  tbe 

tboaglil 
Sbe  needs  matt  bid  farewoU  to  sweet 

Laralne. 
First  m  In  feai.  step  aftsr  step,  she  stole 
])o«m  tbe  long  lowet-Rialrs.liEBltatiiig: 
Anon,  Bbe  baud  Sir  Lancelot  ery  in  tbe 

"  TblB  ibicl'd,  my  friend,  i%liero  is  it  ?" 

PaithiH-Brd,  asabo  earns  from  out  the 

to   Ids   prond  horse  Lancelot 
tnm'd,  and  sniooUi-d 
UiBsy  sbouldar,  humming  to  bhn- 

lInlf^«i«ioii»of  tlio  flattering  band,  Bbe 


That  tJi 


IV  >haaU  k 

nunael  u^i  aud  down  vllUlt  U» 

omul  it  tnie,  an  il  aiuwer'd, "  im 
my  eldld. 


iiid  slie  I 


dbim  " 


then  lie 
Jieriot 


lUt  pearls,"  and  brougbtU: 

Ida  helmet,  tIUi 

en  IlTinc."  andt)iBbi« 
r  fBcasutlUU'dbMnrHl 


But  ief  t  ber  all  the  paler,  nhanlATabi* 
BetutntuE  brought  tbe  yolrnubtuanl 

filiiSd, 
nla  brothac  a ;  nblch  he  guTC  U 


In  keeping  an  1  come."    "AEnMle 

She anawor'd,_"tn:ice to-day.  lamjoot 

Whereat  Lavalno  sold,  Ltngliliib  "  UIJ 

ForfaarourpeoplocallyoulilrmM  I 
In  cnmCBt,  let  bo  bring  yonr  cdoitlMk', 

So  kiss'd  ber,  oud  s'li  LanoelM  Lt 

hand 
Ajid  thus  they  moved  aivaj ;  die  ttart 

Than  ni^e  a  sudden  atep  tO  tb«  (A' 

Ber  bright  bidrbloivn  nbouttbswil- 

OUB  face 
Yet  loiy-kindlod   nilli  he:  bnlbnt 

klsa- 
Pauaed  in  Che  gatowov,  elaniUng  bju« 

Sparkle,   uiitU  biey  dipt  belc 

ThentoliBfiowe(»h*cl!mb'd,aiiatoOt  I 

the  shield. 
There  kb^t  it,  aud  ao  lived  hi  fi 

Mflonvblle  Ibe  two  eompanloiu  ra 
^wav  '^  [do- 

Fat  o'cc  the  Ions  backs  of  t&    ^°^ 


f  o  where  Sir  I^neelot  knew  there  lived 

a  knight 
Kot  far  from  Camelot,  now  for  forty 

years 
A.  hermit,  who  had  prayM,  labor*d  and 

pray'd 
And  ever  laboring  had  scoop'd  himself 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE.  297 

Two  dragons  gilded,  sloping  down  to 


In  Uie  white  rock  n  chapel  and  a  hall 
Ou  massive  columns,  like  a  shoreclifl 

cave, 
And  cells  and  chambers :  all  were  fair 

and  dry ; 
The  green  light  from  the  meadows  un* 

demeath 
Struck  up  and  lived  along  the  milky 

roofs; 
And  in  the  meadows  tremulous  aspen- 
trees 
And  poplars  made  a  noise  of  falling 

showers. 
And  thitlier  wending  there  that  night 

they  bode. 

But  when  the  next  day  broke  from 

undererown, 
And  shot  red  fire  and  shadows  thro*  the 

cave, 
They  rose,  heard  mass,  broke  fast,  and 

rode  away : 
Then  Lancelot  saying,  **  hear,  but  hold 

my  name 
Hidden,  you  ride  with  Lancelot  of  the 

Lake." 
Abash*d  Lavaine,  whoso  instant  rever- 
ence. 
Dearer  to  true  young  hearts  than  their 

own  praise. 
But  left  him  leave  to  stammer,  "is  it 

indeed?" 
And  after  muttering  **  the  great  Lance- 
lot" 
At  last  ho  got  his  breath  and  answer*d 

**  One, 
One  have  I  seen—  that  other,  our  liege 

lord. 
The  dreml  Pendragon,  Biitain's  king 

of  kings. 
Of  whom  the  people  talk  mysteriously. 
He  will  be  there — then  wore  I  stricken 

blind 
That  minute,  I  might  say  that  I  had 


tt 


seen. 

So  spake  Lavaine,  and  when  they 

reach'd  the  lists 
By  Camelotin  the  meadow,  let  his  eyes 
Kun  thro'  the  peopled  gallery  which 

half  round 
Lay   like  a  rainbow  fairn  upon  the 

grass, 
Until  they  found  the  clear-faced  King, 

who  sat 
Bobed   in    red   samite,  easily  to  be 

known. 
Since  to  his  crown  the  golden  dragon 

clung. 
And  down  his  robe  the  dragon  writhed 

in  gold. 
And  from  the  carven-work  behind  him 

crept 


Blazed  the  last  diamon 
less  kin 


igoi 

make 
Arms  for  his  chair,  while  all  the  rest 

of  them 
Thro'  knots  and  loops  and  folds  innu- 
merable 
Fled  ever  thro*  the  woodwork,  till  they 

found 
The  new  design  wherein  they  lost  thenh> 

selves. 
Yet  with  all  ease,  so  tender  was  the 

work: 
And,  in  the  costly  canopy  o»er  him  set, 
"" "■  d*of  the  name- 

Then  Lancelot  answer'd  young  Lavaine 

and  said, 
"  Me  you  call  great :  mine  is  the  firmer 

Beat, 
The  truer  lance  :  but  there  is  many  a 

youth 
Now  crescent,  who  will  come  to  all  I 

am 
And  overcome  it ;    and  in  me  there 

dwells 
Ko  greatness,  save  it  bo  some  far-oft 

touch 
Of  greatness  to  know  well  I  am  not 

great : 
Thcreisthe  man."  And  Lavaine  gaped 

upon  him 
As  on  a  thing  miraculous,  and  anon 
The  trumpets  blew;  and  then  did  either 

side, 
They  tbat  assaiVd,  and  they  that  held 

the  lists, 
Set  lance  in  i*est,  strike  spur,  suddenly 

move. 
Meet  in  the  midst,  and  there  so  furi- 
ously 
Shock,  that  a  man  far-off  might  well 

perceive. 
If  any  man  that  day  were  left  afield. 
The  hard  earth  shcQce,  and  a  low  thun- 
der of  arms. 
And  Lancelot  bode  a  little,  till  he  saw 
Which  were  the  weaker;  then  he  hurl'd 

into  it 
Agahist  the  stronger  :   little  need  to 

speak 
Of  Lancelot  in  his  glory  :   King,  duke, 

earl. 
Count,  baron  —  whom  he  smote,  he 

overthrew. 

But  in  the  field  were  Lancelot's  kith 

and  kin, 
Banged  with  the  Table  Bound  that  held 

the  lists. 
Strong  men,  and  wrathful  that  a  stran* 

Ser  knight 
do  and  almost  overdo  the  deeds 
Of  Lancelot ;  and  one  said  to  the  other 

*«Lo! 
What  is  he  ?   I  do  not  mean  the  force 

alone, 
The  grace  and  versatility  of  the  man  — 
Is  it  not  Lancelot ! "    **  When  has  La»* 

eelot  worn 
Fbvor  of  any  lady  in.  tbA  'tt&\;b1 


"  How  then ' 

UI  La.nc 
the 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 

mi  W«  ttaXBH  iloim  bo  AV, 
to  Sir  LmTBinflr  "draw  iha 


inch  lilB  wimt,  «a  wa,  wlio  know 
lilm,  Kiiow." 

?"  afuryaeiie*! 


iliypi 


with 


la  prick  M 

In  raovliig,  all  logstlier  down  upon 
Bare,  na  a  wild  whto  In  the  nldo  XorLh- 
areeu-glimmorliiB  Inward  llio  Bumnill, 

lU  BtotniT  cretw  that  (nioko  ngaiiist 

the  akleii. 
Down  on  ■  bark,  and  ovErbcius  tba 

bark. 
And  lilm  tliM  helnii  It,  so  Ihcy  otr 


Sir  I 


cetot  a 


knlglita. 


A 


Be  (poka,  and  ranlsh'd  taddenly 
from  Ilia  Hold 
WiUi  joniii;  laf.iina  Into  tho  poplar 


die. 


:a<l  me.  If  I  draw  it,  jra  ihill 
"  I  die  already  with  It :  i 


Down-glancing,  lomod  the  charger,  and 
Pilek'il  shftrplT  hiB  own  cnlrgM,  and 
Fiercedthro'  hli  side, and  Uierasniipt, 

Then  Blr  I-araiuo  did  well  and  wor 
Ha  bore  a  kiifjiht  of  oM  lepute  Id  tlio 
And  broualit  his  horse  to  Lancelot 
He  nplUe  idde,  Bweatlngvdlh  agon;, 

itthDiiBhttQ  da  while  ha  mlgbt  yet 

nd  beliiK  luatil;  liolpen  bv  the  rest. 
lib,  patty,— tho' it  aeeniBd  haie-Ddr- 

«  ha  foueht  wltli  —  dravo  bii 

And  all  tho  Table  KoDiid  that  held  tb( 

Back  U)  the  barrier ;  tboii  the  horaldi 

blew 
ProoUlmlng  his  the  prlio,  wbo  trori 

id  tbe  pcatls  ;  aiid  nit  tbi 

'e,  and  Uke 


Uraw,"~-aiid  Lai 
A  marvellona  great  Bhrick  and  (tolllj 
And  half  liiB  blood  buret  forth,  OA 
For  tbe  pnre  pain,  and  wholly  sirwnM 

Then  came  the  Iiermlt  out  and  tact 

him  In. 
There  slanch'd  his  wound  i  mid  OrnB, 

In  ditlly  douoc 
■WTiathet  to  livo  oi 

week 
llld  [rum  (ha  nide  woitd's  ruinarlij' 

Of  poidnn  with  their  uolio  of  falilng 

And  oiet-tremulous  ospen-trMi,  In 

But  on  that  day 
thellaU, 
UlB  party,  kulgbtaotuluiai 

Lords  of  waste  marches,  U 

htte  lalea. 
Camfl  roand  their  Ei'Sal 

Bay  lug  to  him 

Siro,  pur_kuight  thro' 


Lonodotllcd 


won  tbe  day 


ra  wounded. 


itaken,   cning  that  hit    prl»  it 


a  knight  as  we  hiva  seen  I 


He  must  not  iiaaa  uncnrcd  tot.  Wboni- 

0  Gawaln,  and  ride  futtb  and  Hod  iLt 

knight. 
Wonnded  and  wearied  needs  m 

1  charge  you  that  jou  got  at  o 
And.knlgbii  and  hlngs,  Uiers  breSlM 

'Will  deem  tlili  prize  ot  ours  Is  tsililT 

glTsn : 
UlB  proweaa  was  too  nomlrou*.    1 

will  do  blm 
No  cuBlomaty  honor  :  slnM  tho  knli 
Came  not  tu  nt.  of  us  to  claim  i 

Ouisefvei  will  Mnd  it  after.    Itbe  U< 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE, 


299 


riiis  diamond,  and  deliver  it,  and  re- 
turn. 

And  bring  us  where  he  is  and  how  lie 
fares, 

And  cease  not  from  your  quest,  until 
you  find." 

So  saying   from  the  carven  flower 

above, 
To  which  it  made  a  restless  heart,  he 

took, 
And  gave,  the  diamond :  then  from 

where  he  sat 
At  Arthur's  right,  with  smiling  face 

arose. 
With  smiling  face  and  frowning  heart, 

a  Prince 
In  the  mid  might  and  flourish  of  his 

May, 
Gawain,  surnamed  The  Courteous,  fair 

and  strong. 
And  after  Lancelot,  Tristram,  and  Ge- 

raint 
And  Lamorack,  a  good  knight,  but 

tlierewithal 
Sir  Modred's  brother,  of  a  crafty  house, 
Kor  often  loyal  to  his  word,  and  now 
Wroth  that  tne  king's  command  to  sally 

fortli 
In  quest  of  whom  he  knew  not,  made 

him  leave 
The  banquet,  and  concourse  of  knights 

and  kings. 

So  all  in  wrath  he  got  to  horse  and 

M-ent ; 
While  Artlmr  to  the  banquet,  dark  in 

nioodj 
Past,  thinkmg  **  is  it  Lancelot  who  has 

come 
Despite  the  wound  he  spake  of,  all  for 

gain 
Of  glory,  and  has  added  wound  to 

wound, 
Andridd'n  away  to  die?"    So  fcar'd 

the  King, 
And,  after  two  days'  tarriance  there, 

retum'd. 
Then  when  he  saw  the  Queen,  embrac- 
ing, ask'd, 
"  Love,  are  you  yet  so  sick  ? **    **  Nay, 

lord,"  she  said. 
'"  And  where  is  Lancelot  ?  "   Then  the 

Queen  amazed 
•*  Was  he  not  with  you?  won  he  not 

your  prize  ?  " 
•*  Nay,  but  one  like  him."    **  Why 

tnat  like  was  he." 
And  when  the  King  demanded  how 

she  knew. 
Said  *']^rd,  no  sooner  had  ye  parted 

from  us. 
Than  Lancelot  told  me  of  a  common 

talk 
That  men  went  down  before  his  spear 

at  a  touch, 
Bntknowing  he  was  Lancelot;  his  great 

name 
Oonquer'd:  and  thexefore  would  he 

hide  his  name 


From  all  men,  cv'n  the  king,  and  to 

this  end 
Had  made  the  pretext  of  a  hindering 

wound, 
Tliat  he  might  joust  unknown  of  all, 

and  learn 
If  his  ohl  prowess  was   in  aught  de* 

cay'd : 
And  added,  *  our  true  Arthur,  when  ha 

learns. 
Will  well  allow  my  pretext,  as  for  gain 

of  purer  glorj'.'  " 

Then  replied  the  King  : 
"  Far  lovelier  in  our  Lancelot  had  it 

been, 
In  lieu  of  idly  dallying  with  the  truth. 
To  have  trusted  mo  as  he  has  trusted 

you. 
Surely  his  king  and  most  familiar 

friend 
Might  well  have  kept  his  secret.  True, 

indeed, 
Albeit  I  know  my  knights  fantastical, 
So  tine  a  fear  in  our  largo  Lancelot 
Must  needs  have  moved  my  laughter : 

now  remains 
But  little  cause  for  laughter :  his  own 

kin- 
Ill  news,  mv  Queen,  for  all  who  love 

him,  these  ! 
His  kith  and  kin,  not  knowing,  set 

upon  him ; 
So  that  he  went  sore  wounded  from 

the  field : 
Yet  good  news  too :  for  goodly  hopes 

are  mine 
That  Lancelot  is  no  more  a  lonely 

heart. 
He  wore,  against  his  wont,  upon  hia 

helm 
A  sleeve  of  scarlet,  broidered  with  great 

pearls. 
Some  gentle  maiden's  gift." 

"Yea,  lord,"  she  said, 
"  Your  hopes  are  mine,"  and  saying 

that  she  choked. 
And  sharply  tum'd  about  to  hide  her 

face, 
Past  to  her  chamber,  and  there  flung 

herself 
Down  on  the  great  King's  couch,  and 

writhe«l  upon  it, 
And  clench'd  her  fingers  till  they  bit 

the  palm. 
And  shriek'd  out  **  traitor  "  to  the  un- 


Theii  flash'd  into  wild  tears,  and  rose 

again. 
And  moved  about  her  palace,  proud 

and  pale. 

Gawain  the  while  thro'  all  the  region 

round 
Bode  with  his  diamond,  wearied  of  the 

quest. 
Touched  at  all  points,  except  the  poplar 

grove, 
And  came  at  loati  tho'  late^tA  A&tAV&.V 


■PV9I 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 

^^fll^WrfoS  In   ennmelrd  >niis      Wlio  loat  Iba  lem  we  sUpt  him  at, 
To  all  ths  wlnAi?"    "Say.  bj 


Irai 


1,  and  etlad  "  VThst  news 
Camelot.  lonl? 

U,"  she  Mill.  "  But  psrtwl 
B  iide,"  wlisrcnt  shs  cttugUt 
ft-  own  ElJe  Ehe  faU  tlio  sliarp 
["?h«  Binoto  bei  liimd  ;  well- 
hUo  ]ie  giLMd  wmideriuEly  at 
il  of  Astolat  out,  to  »lioin  tlio 
Kepotteil  who  lio  wm,  and  on  wbat 
obore  tlie  pHze  nud  <oald 
but  bod  rlOden  v-Ildl; 
To  »wk  liim,  and  wu  wesrlod  ol  tho 
To  wlioui  ttie  lord  oI  ABtolat  "  Bida 


wiLh  111 


TtilJly, 


oblo 

,  and  here  ho  left 
«nie  tor :  Iiirther- 
n  ;  vra  Bhall  hear 
a."  To  IhiB  tbo 
nitsU  coQrtesy, 


:b  daintier? 


icyos 


n  iB  vilh  h 

Seeds  laui't  wa  hi 

maneouBprii 
Accorded  iviUiblB* 
Couitesy  wlUi  a  lou 
And  alsy'd  :  and  ca 

ElsUio: 
■Where  «oald  be  to 

IheiUicrtllaiio 
From  forsliBBd  down  to  loot  perCecC  — 

Prom  fiwt    lo    lortbeail    eiHiulBilaly 

"Well— 11  I'bido.lo!  this  wild  floivor 

for  me  1 " 
And  o(t  tliey  mot  amons  Uio  garden 

at  WmieK  lo  ylaj'  upon 


idtWrabc 


■Btro 


,  graces  of  t' 

filgliB,   and   Blowamlloa 

Ami  anioroua  adulation, 
Itebell'd   ae^nst  11,  an 

O  loyal  ne 
■Whyaskyt 


mr  noble  King, 
BBlhoBhleldlloleft, 

'e  you  might  leani  Ida  iianmV 

,Vliy  alight  yonr  King. 
And  loie  Iho  queal  he  tent  you  on, 


tr  thoit  OQ' 


itmiyowililt 


with  gold J 


alilelU  HsB  broDgbt.aiHl 

Lie     llODB, 

Itamp  in  ijie  Held,  he  Emote  hit  IbiEhi 

"Eight waa  the  line!  our  LonMlotl 
that  true  man  ;^' 

"  ^''^ril^''"  ?*"  ^'"  "'"'  '^'"™^'' 
Who  drmm'd  myhnighCtha 
"AlMl  ir/  dream'd,"   Bttld 

"that you  loTB 
This   prcatBBt   knight,  your 

Speak  therefore  :  Bhall  I  waBta  nijiia 


Wlib'il  it  bail  b 


tlicy  tnlkM. 
weui'd,ot  ivhnt  UiB 

uiyeelf- 
I  know  not  if  I  know  ir 
Dutitlknow,  lhe»,!f 
Metbiuka  tliere  la  noi 

lOTO." 

"Yea, by  God'a  death. 


aald  be,  "j* 

iw  ye  '■AM  'U 


Bnt  ha  r 


meil  her 


calling  "Stay 

One  golilon  minuto'a  grace :  be  ym 

■Wool^  be  break  faith  wilb  eino  I  iiu 

Muat  our  trno  man  chance  like  a  IM 

atlrutV 
Say— like  enough :  why  ibeHifarbttt 

To  croBB  onr  mighty  Lancelot  tn  V 

And,  damaol,  lor  1  deem  you  know  full 

Where  your  groat  knigbl  la  bidden. 

MyqueBtwithyon;  the dintnoiul all 

For  if  you  love,  It  will  be  BWectto^ 

And  If  'he  loie.  It  TtUl  be  n*M 
Imvoil 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


801 


From  yoar  own  hand ;  and  whether  he 

love  or  not, 
A  diamond  is  a  diamond.    Fare  you 

well 
A  thousand  limes !— a  thousand  times 

farewell ! 
Tet,  if  he  love,  and  his  love  hold,  we 

two 
May  meet  at  court  hereafter :  tliere,  I 

think, 
So  you  will  learn  the  courtesies  of  the 

court, 
We  two  shall  know  each  other.*' 

Then  he  gave. 
And  slightly  kiss'd  the  hand  to  which 

he  gave, 
The  diamond,  and  all  wearied  of  the 

quest 
Leapt  on  his  horse,  and  carolling  as  ho 

went 
A  true-love  ballad,  lightly  rode  away. 

Thence  to  the  court  he  past;  there 

told  the  King 
What  the  King  knew  <'Sir  Lancelot  is 

the  knight." 
And  added  "sire,  my  liege,  so  much  I 

But  f aird  to  find  him  tho*  I  rode  all 
round 

Tlie  region  :  but  I  lighted  on  the  maid, 

Whose  sleeve  he  wore  ;  she  loves  him ; 
and  to  her. 

Deeming  our  courtesy  is  the  truest 
law, 

I  gave  the  diamond:  she  will  render 
it; 

For  by  mine  head  she  knows  his  hid- 
ing-place." 

The  seldom-frowning  King  frown*d, 
and  replied, 

**  Too  courteous  truly  !  ye  shall  go  no 
more 

On  quest  of  mine,  seeing  that  ye  for- 
get 

Obedience  is  the  courtesy  due  to 
kings." 

He  spake  and  i>arted.  Wroth  but 
all  in  awe, 

For  twenty  strokes  of  the  blood,  with- 
out a  word, 

Linger*d  that  other,  staring  after  him : 

Then  shook  his  hair,  strode  off|  and 
buzz'd  abroad 

About  the  maid  of  Astolat,  and  her 
love. 

All  ears  were  prick'd  at  once»  all 
tongues  were  loosed : 

<*  The  maid  of  Astolat  loves  Sir  Lance- 
lot, 

Sir  I«ancelot  loves  the  maid  of  Asto- 
lat." 

Some  read  the  King's  face,  some  the 
Queen's,  and  all 

Had  marvel  what  the  maid  might  be, 
but  most 

Predoom'd  her  as  unworthy.  One  old 
damo 


Came  suddenly  on  the  Qheen  with  the 

sharp  news. 
She,  that  had  heard  the  noise  of  it  be* 

fore, 
But  sorrowing  Lancelot  should  have 

stoop'd  so  low, 
Marr'd  her  friend's  iK>int  with  pale 

tranquillity. 
So  ran  the  tale  like  fire  about  the 

court. 
Fire  in  dry  stubble  a  nine  days'  won- 
der nared : 
Till  ev'n  the  knights  at  banquet  twice 

or  thrice 
Forgot  to  drink  to  Lancelot  and  the 

Queen, 
And  pledging  Lancelot  and  the  lily 

maid 
Smiled  at  each  other,  while  the  Queen 

who  sat 
Witli  lips  severely  placid  felt  the  knot 
Climb  in  her  throat,  and  with  her  feet 

unseen 
Crush'd  the  wild  passion  out  against 

the  floor 
Beneath  the  banquet,  where  the  meats 

became 
As  wormwood,  and  she  hated  all  who 

pledged. 

But  far  away  the  maid  In  Astolat, 
Her  guiltless  rival,  she  that  ever  kept 
The  one-day-seen  Sir  Lancelot  in  her 

heart. 
Crept  to  her  father,  while  he  mused 

alone. 
Sat  on  his  knee,  stroked  his  gray  faco 

and  said, 
"  Father,  you  call  me  wilful,  and  the 

fault 
Is  youra  who  let  me  have  my  will,  and 

now. 
Sweet  father,  will  you  let  me  lose  my 

wits?" 
"Nay,"  said  he,  *' surely."    "Where- 
fore, let  me  hence," 
She  answer'd,  "  and  find  out  our  dear 

Lavaine." 
**  Ye  will  not  lose  your  wits  for  dear 

Lavaine : 
Bide,"  answer'd  he :  "  we  needs  must 

hear  anon 
Of  him,  and  of  that  other."    "Ay," 

she  said, 
"And  of  that  other,  for  I  needs  must 

hence 
And  find  that  other,  wheresoe'er  he 

be. 
And  with  mine  own  hand  give  his  dia- 
mond to  him. 
Lest  I  be  found  as  faithless  in  the 

quest 
As  yon   proud  Prince  who  left  the 

quest  to  me. 
Sweet  father,  I  behold  him  in  my 

dreams 
Gaunt  OS  it  were  the  skeleton  of  him- 
self. 
Death-pale,  for  lack  of  gentle  maiden's 

aid. 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


Ibe  genUec-bJtm  Uie  maiden,  llio  more 

MJ  laUiEt,  to  bo  Bweel  nnci  »Brilc8nb1e 
To  iiiUte  kulgbu  in  lickneBB.  ais  ye 


I! 


Bi|[lit(JilnwCTe  I  lo  le«rn  Oils  knlglit 

t  oUTErcai««t  1  veil,  and  you  lount 

give  It— 
■nid  I  tUuk  Kbit  Imlc  l>  bung  loo 

Utgb 
■iiy  mouth  lo  gape  lor   >a™  n 

Niiy,  I  meMi  iiotlilue:  bo  tbin,  net 

Being  K  Tery  wilful  yon  mu>t  go." 

Llgbtlj.  her  sull.  nllow'd,  >be  illpt 

And  while  aba  mute  ber  ready  tor  ber 

ride, 
Her  laiher'B  1at«gt  word  bumm'd  In 


Aud 


iBing  w 
id  cFiui 


wilful r< 


dltaell  a 


iColT. 


>e  bee  tbalbuuies  a 

Andlub'er  bcartahe  answec'd  It  am 

"  Wbat  matter,  bo  I  bcln  him  back  ti 

life  ■!  •• 
Tboii  lac  awaj  wltb  good  Sir  Tone  fo 

T  BodB  o'er  the  long  backs  Of  the  buab 

To  Camslot,  and  before  tbe  <?ity-cates 
"    ne  on  bsi  brother  with  a  happ 


.    "  Tom  and  Elaine  t 


lere  Arthur's  wan  were  render' 

It  up  the  BtJll'rirh  cItT  to  Iiii  kin, 
I  own  far   blood,  wbich  direll  ( 
Camdot ', 


Stream'.!  from   H   bHU; 

heart  she  laugb'd. 
Because  be  had  not  looeeditlmiutilt 
But  meant   onoo  mora  pErrbano  ic 

And  when    they  gain'd    the  cell  In 

which  he  slept, 
Hii  batlle-writbeu  arms  and  inijhti 

Lay  naked    on   the    wolfskin, 

oe  dragging  down  kli    enem) 

Tbea  she  that  saw  him  lying  nndeel. 

Gaunt  as  It  were  tbe  skeleton  ol  Ida- 

Uttered  a  liltie  tender  doloroo*  aj. 
The  sound  not  wonted  ill  a  place  ID  nni 
■Woke  tie  .Ick  knight,  and  wUle  U 

roll'd  his  eyes 
Vet  Wank  from  sleep,  she  aUrted  » 

"  Yonr  pi^ne  the  diamond  aenE  tob  by 
the  King  :  "  '     ^ 

His  eyes  glUleo'd;  ahe  tiinfied " b it 

Andvhen  the  maid  had  told  him  ill 

the  tale 
Of   King    and    Prince,  the   dUUDoKl 

rail  lowly  by  the  enmcrs  ot  hlibtd. 


I  the  diamond  In    hli  e| 


And  1 1 


That  does  the  taik  asBlgn'd,be  klit'd 


^VbaC  might  she  mean  by  IbatTUi 

large  black  ejea. 
Yet  larger  thro'  hli  leannsM,  dni 

upon  her. 
Till  all  hec  heart's  sad  SQciet  blun 

In  tbe  boirt's  color*  on  her  lUnpIs 

And  Lancelot  look'd  nod  was  perplsil 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


808 


Save  one,  be  not  regarded,  and  so 

turn'd 
Sigbiiiff,  and  feign*d  a  sleep  until  he 

slept. 

Then  rose  Elaine  and  glided  thro' 

the  fields. 
And  past  beneath  the  wildly-sculp- 
tured gates 
Far  up  the  aim  rich  city  to  her  kin ; 
There  bode  the  night :  but  woke  with 

dawn,  and  past 
I>own  thro*  the  dim  rich  city  to  the 

fields. 
Thence  to  the  cave  :  so  day  by  day  she 

past 
In  either  twilight  ghost-Ilke  to  and  fro 
Gliding,  and  every  day  she    tended 

him, 
And  likewise  many  a  night :  and  Lan- 
celot 
Would,  tho*  he   call'd  his  wound  a 

little  hurt 
Whereof  he  should  bo  quickly  whole, 

at  times 
Brain-feverous  in  his  heat  and  agony, 

seem 
Uncourteous,  even  he :  but  the  meek 

maid 
Sweetly  forebore  him  ever,  being  to 

liim 
Meeker  than  any  child  to  a  rough 

nurse 
Milder  than  any  mother  to  a  sick 

child, 
And  never  woman  yet,  since  man's 

first  fall. 
Bid  kindlier  unto  man,  but  her  deep 

love 
Upbore  her ;  till  the  hermit,  skilPd  in 

all 
The  simples  and  the  science  of  that 

time. 
Told  him  that  her  fine  care  had  saved 

hU  life. 
And  the  sick  man  forgot  her  simple 

blush, 
Would  call  her  friend  and  sister,  sweet 

Elaine, 
Would  listen  for  her  coming  and  regret 
Her  parting  step,  and  held  her  ten- 
derly, 
And  loved  her  with  all  love  except  tho 

love 
Of  man  and  woman  when  tlicy  love 

their  best 
Closest  and  sweetest,  and  had  died  the 

death 
In  any  knightly  fashion  for  her  sake. 
And  peradveuture  had  he  seen  her 

first 
She  might  have  made  this  and  that 

other  world 
Another  world  for  thie  sick  man ;  but 

now 
The  shackles  of  an  old  love  straiten'd 

him, 
His  honor  rooted  in  dishonor  stood. 
And  faith  unfaithful  kept  him  falsely 

true. 


Yet  the  great  knight  in  his  mid- 
sickness  made 

Full  many  a  holy  vow  and  pure  re- 
solve. 

These,  as  but  bom  of  sickness,  could 
not  live  : 

For  when  the  blood  ran  lustier  in  him 
again. 

Full  often  the    sweet  image  of   one 
face. 

Making    a  treacherous  quiet  in  his 
heart, 

Dispersed  his  resolution  like  a  cloud. 

Then  if  the  maiden,  while  that  ghostly 
grace 

Beam'd  on  his  fancy,  spoke,  he  an- 
swer'd  not, 

Or  short  and  coldly,  and  she  knew 
right  well 

What  the  rough  sickness  meant,  but 
what  this  meant 

She  knew  not,  and  the  sorrow  dimm'd 
her  sight. 

And  drave  her  ere  her  time  across  tho 
fields 

Far  into  the  rich  city,  where  alone 

She  murmur'd  •*  vain,  in  vain :  it  can- 
not be 

He  will  not  love  me :  how  then  ?  must 
I  die." 

Then  as  a  little  helpless  innocent  bird. 

That  has  but  one  plain  passage  of  few 
notes. 

Will  sing  the  simple  passage  o'er  and 
o'er 

For  all  an  April  morning,  till  the  ear 

Wearies  to  hear  it,  so  the  simple  mai.i 

Went  half  the  night  repeating,  "must 
Idle?" 

And  now  to  right  she  turn'd,  and  now 
to  left, 

And  found  no  ease  in  turning  or  in 

And  "  him  or  death "  she  mutter'd, 

**  death  or  him," 
Again  and  like  a  burthen,  "him or 

death." 

But  when  Sir  Lancelot's  deadly  hurt 

was  whole. 
To  Astolat  returning  rode  the  three. 
There  mom   by  morn,  arraying  her 

sweet  self 
In  that  wherein  she  deem'd  she  look'd 

her  best, 
She  came  before  Sir  Lancelot,  for  she 

thought 
"  If  I  be  loved,  these  are  my  festal 

robes. 
If  not.  the  victim's  flowers  before  he 

fall." 
And  Lancelot  ever  prest  upon  the  maid 
That  she  should  ask  some  goodly  gift 

of  him 
For  her  own  self  or  hers ;  **  and  do  not 

shun 
To  speak  the  wish  most  dear  to  your 

true  heart ; 
Such  service  have  ye  done  roe,  that  I 

make 


1 


LANCELOT 

yij  win  nr  jou™,  uid  PrliiCB  BTul  Lord 
liid  uvn  land,  and  what!  Willi 


AND  ELAINE. 

of  Ufa  ' 

To  tmo  more  Ally  jo^ut,  not 

And  tLen  «ni  1,  (or  true  you  u 

Beyond  mine  old  belief  In  woinanliA"!, 

More     specially     should  you  ina' 

knigUtliopoor,  "^ 

Endov  you  with  biobl  lanil  and  ui 

ETsn  b>  lUe  half  my  leilm  b^jionil  ih 

So  iliat  would  make  you  luppy  :  fnr^ 

Et'o  10  the  deatli,  aa  tbo'  ye  w> 


Sba  neltber  bluOi'd  nor  Bliouk.  but 

dcstli1y>palo 
Stood  gnsjiliiB  wbat  wai  uenreii 

■'  Of  ^^iLla  will  I  nolMiig  -,•■ , 


Thou  tnake.  to  w! 

blnrkwnllBur} 

TliBlr   IBlk   Imd  piei 


a  youi  fair  \j 

I  pray  you.niie  aoine  roueh  diHourt 
To  blunt  or  break  her  imbIou." 

re  Bgslutt  me:  wliatlaiil 

a   th&C  do;  reniBlii'il,  uA 


Strlpt  oft  the  caee,  and  ebto  Ilie  ulwl 

■blBld ; 
Then,  nhon  she  heard  bli  honenp 

Uncliuplni;  Sung  tlie  casemenl  b)i 

and  look'd 
Down  on  M«  helm,  from  wUth  1 

And  Lancelot  kuew  the  little  flluti 

And  Bhe  by  tkct  of  lore  ■n'  well  an— 
That  Ijincelot  knew  that  ahc  was  1«Ui- 

till  at  him. 
And  yiftTiB  glauced  not  U 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


805 


His  Tery  shield  was  gone;  only  the 
ease, 

Her  own  poor  work,  her  empty  labor, 
left. 

But  still  she  heard  him,  still  his  pic- 
ture form'd 

And  grew  between  her  and  the  pic- 
tured wall. 

Then  came  her  father,  saying  in  low 
tones 

**  Have  comfort,**  whom  she  greeted 
quietly. 

Then  came  her  brethren  saying,  "Peace 
to  thee 

Sweet  sister,*'  whom  she  answer*d  with 
all  calm. 

But  when  they  left  her  to  herself  again, 

Death,  like  a  mend's  voice  from  a  dis- 
tant field 

Approaching  thro*  the  darkness,  call'd; 
the  owls 

Wailing  had  power  upon  her,  and  she 
mixt 

Her  fancies  with  the  sallow-rifted 
glooms 

Of  evening,  and  the  moanhigs  of  the 
wind. 

And  in  those  days  she  made  a  little 


son 


5' 


And  call'd  her  song  <*  The  song  of  Love 

and  Death." 
And  sang  it :  sweetly  could  she  make 

and  sing. 

**  Sweet  is  true  love  tho'  given  in  vain, 

in  vain ; 
And  sweet  is  death  who  puts  an  end  to 

pain  : 
I  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

**  Love,  art  thou  sweet  ?  then  bitter 
death  must  be  : 
Love,  thou  art  bitter ;  sweet  is  death  to 
me. 

0  Love,  if  death  be  sweeter,  let  mo  die. 

**  Sweet  love,  that  seems  not  made  to 
fade  away. 
Sweet  death,  that  seems  to  make  us 
loveless  clay. 

1  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

"  I  fain  would  follow  love,  if  that 

could  be  : 
I  needs  must  follow  death,  who  calls 

for  me : 
Call  and  I  follow,  I  follow !  let  me 

die." 

High  with  the  last  line  scaled  her 

voice,  and  this. 
All  in  a  fiery  dawning  wild  with  wind 
That  shook  her  tower,  the    brothers 

heard,  and  thought 
With  shuddering  *<  Hark  the  Phantom 

of  the  house 
lliat  ever  shrieks  before  a  death,**  and 

caird 
Tlie  father,  and  all  three  in  hurry  and 

fear 


Ban  to  her,  and  lo !  the  blood-red  light 

of  dawn 
Flared  on  her  face,  she  shrilling  "  Let 

me  die ! " 

As  when  wo  dwell  ujion  a  word  we 

know 
Bepeating,  till  the  word  we  know  so 

well 
Becomes  a  wonder  and  we  know  not 

why, 
So  dwelt  the  father  on  her  face  and 

thought 
**  Is  this  Elaine  ?  "  tUl  back  the  maiden 

fell. 
Then  gave  a  languid  hand  to  each,  and 

lay. 
Speaking  a  still  good-morrow  with  her 

eyes. 
At  last  she   said   **  Sweet  brothers, 

yester  night 
I  seem'd  a  curiuus  little  maid  again, 
As  happy  as  when  we  dwelt  among  the 

woods, 
And  when  ye  used  to  take  me  with  the 

flootl 
Up  tho  great  river  in  the  boatman's 

boat. 
Only  ye  would  not  pass  beyond  the 

cape 
That  has  the  poplar  on  it :  there  ye 

fixt 
Your  limit,  oft  returning  with  the  tide. 
And  yet  I  cried  because  ye  would  not 

pass 
Beyond  it,  and  far  up  the  shining  flood 
Until  we  found  the  palace  of  the  king. 
And  yet  ye  would  not ;  but  this  night 

I  dream'd 
That  I  was  all  alone  upon  the  flood. 
And  then  I  said  *'  Now  shall  I  have  my 

will  : " 
And  there  I  woke,  but  still  the  wish 

remain'd. 
So  let  me  hence  that  I  may  pass  at 

last 
Beyond  the  poplar  and  far  up  the  flood, 
Until  I  find  the  palace  of  the  king. 
There  will  I  enter  in  among  them  all. 
And  no  man  there  will  dare  to  mock  at 

me; 
But  there  the  fine  Gawain  will  wonder 

at  me, 
And  there  the  great  Sir  I.ancelot  muse 

at  me ; 
Gawain,  who  bade  a  thousand  fare- 
wells to  me, 
Lancelot,  who  coldly  went  nor  bade  me 

one  : 
And  ^ere  the  King  will  know  me  and 

my  love. 
And  there  the  Queen  herself  will  pity 

me. 
And  all  the  gentle  court  will  welcome 

me. 
And  after  my  long  voyage  I  shall 

rest !  ** 

«<  Peace,"  said  her  father,  "  O  my 
child,  ye  seem 


V 


1 


aoo  LANCELOT 

Llgbt-heuleJ,  fat  vhM  force  Ii  yours 

So  fkr.  Twins   '1'^'' "   ■'"!  vliereEore 

On  tbliptouil  tellQw  ogaiii,  who  tcona 

Tlien  Ibe  roagli  Torre  hcgaa  to  hears 


AXD  ELAINE. 

She  with  K  fuw,  brieht  M  (or  iln  I 
Besouaht  l^T^ne  to  wrtie  u 
A  lotter,  YtDid  for  woni  ;  nnil  wlira 
"iBlttor  IdncelDt.ii  It  Kit  mr  >] 


yseUm 


II  Hill  1  tlrike  Bi 


comtoit  lie  hatti  done  1 


Kot  la  luTO  m 

Ulmotall  lu 

highest." 
"UlgbeaC'J"    the  Futher    ongwer'd. 

eclioinB-'lilgheaf,'" 
(Sa  meuit  to  tireok  the  pdbbIou  in  her] 

Diughter,  I  know  not  what  you  call 
-B  Wheat; 
a  X  Kuow,  tor  nil  Iha  people 


Mhaii 


The  tetter  (he  derised ;  which  btlt| 

And  folded,  "  O  sweet  tather,  teit 

Deny  me  iiot,'"  she  snUl— "yaii* 

j-et 
Denied    mj    tanclei — tU*,   hgw* 

My  iBIeit  1  Inr  the  lettet  In  mThul 
AlJttlecreldic,  aiidi'losaUiBhina 
Upon  i  t ;  I  shall  BiiBBl  it  even  InilMlf 
And  when  llio  heat  la  gone  Inm  n 

Then  tnks  tlio  lililo  lie.1  on  whieb 

nceiot'H  lore,  and  deck  It  It 

„je  Queen ■» 

For  richness,  and    mo  alio  Uka  tt 

Queen 

n  all  I  bnrs  of  rlrli.  sn.l  la;  me  on  IL, 

iHl  let  there  ho  prepared  *  chariot! 

a  take  me  to  the  river,  and  ■  bim 
e  ready  on  the  river.  I'lollieil  111  biiii, 


I 

i 


There 


mailo  Ignoble  talk. 


t  now  it  is  my  e'ory  to  have  Inveil 
1  paerlesi,  wilhOdt  atoiii  :  aa  let  in 


lork  agfllxml  your 
Hero  Iha  Ihingayf 

1  bill  call  the  ghostly 


uralyl 


ill  apeak  fai  in 

eotyoa  <an  ■peakformaM 

And  tliereforo  let  our  tlumhoWini 

Go  with  Die,  ho  cui  steer  anil  rov,  tl 

he 
Win  Eulde^me  lo  that  pnlnc*,  to  it* 

Slie  eeased:  her  father   itrornlxd; 
She  grew  bo  tlieorfol  that  they  dam' 

lomlngs  paat,  and  n 


Was  rathe  I 


And 


biniil. 
day  there  was  dole  tn  An 


r  fnlher  laid  the  let' 


n  >nn  brokatK 

athren  slowly  wl 

iipanylnt;  the  Mi]  eliarlot-bler 

fast  liken  shadow  thru'  the  Delil.lh'' 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


807 


Fall-enmmer,  to  that  stream  whereun 

the  barge, 
Paird  all  its  length  in  blackest  samite, 

lay. 
There  sat  the  lifelong  creature  of  the 

house, 
Jjoyal,  the  dumb  old  servitor,  on  deck, 
Winking  his  eyes,  and  twisted  all  his 

face. 
So  those  two  brethren  from  the  chariot 

took 
And  on  the  black  decks  laid  her  in  her 

bed, 
Set  in  her  hand  a  lily,  o'er  her  hung 
The  silken  case  with  braided  blazoniiigs. 
And  kiss'd  her  quiet  brows,  and  saying 

to  her 
••  Sister,  farewell  for  ever,"  and  again 
*'  Farewell,  sweet  sister,"  patted  all  in 

tears. 
Then  rose  the  dumb  old  servitor,  and 

the  dead 
Steer*d  by  the  dumb  went  upward  with 

the  flood- 
In  her  right  hand  the  lily,  in  her  left 
The  lett-er — all  her  bngHt  hair  stream- 
ing down  — 
And  all  the  coverlid  wan  cloth  of  gold 
Drawn  to  her  waist,  and  she  herself  in 

white 
All  but  her  face,  and  that  clear-fca- 

•  tured  face 
Was  lovely,  for  she  did  not  seem  as 

dead 
But  fast  asleep,  and  lay  as  tho*  she 

smiled. 

That  day  Sir  Lancelot  at  the  palace 

cravetl 
Audience  of  Guinevere,  to  give  at  last 
The  price  of  half  a  realm,  his  costly 

gift, 
Hard-won  and  hardly  won  with  bruise 

and  blow. 
With  deaths  of  others,  and  almost  his 

own. 
The  nine-years-fought-for  diamonds : 

for  he  saw 
One  of  her  house,  and  sent  him  to  tho 

Queen 
Bearing  his  wish,  whereto  the  Queen 

agreed 
With  such  and  so  unmoved  a  majesty 
She  might  have  seem'd  her  statue,  but 

that  he. 
Low-drooping  til!  he  wellnigh  kiss*d 

her  feet 
For  loyal  awe,  saw  with  a  sidelong  eye 
The  shadow  of  a  piece  of  pointed  lace. 
In  the  Queen's  shadow,  vibrate  on  the 

walls. 
And  parted,  laughing  in  his  courtly 

neart. 

All  in  an  oriel  on  the  summer  side, 
Vine-clad,  of  Arthur's  palace  tuwa|^l 

the  stream. 
They  met,  and  Lancelot  kneeling  ut- 

ter'd,  **  Queen, 
Lady,  my  liege,  in  whom  I  have  my 

Joy. 


Take,  what  I  had  not  won  except  for 

you. 
These  jewels,  and  make  me  happy, 

making  them 
An  armlet  for  the  roundest  arm  on 

earth, 
Or  necklace  for  a  neck  to  which  the 

swan's 
Is  tawnier  than  her  cygnet's  :  these 

are  words : 
Tour  beauty  is  your  beauty,  and  I  sin 
In  speaking,  yet  O  grant  my  worship 

of  it 
Words,  as  we  grant  grief  tears.    Such 

sin  in  words 
Perchance,  we  both  can  pardon  :  but, 

my  Queen, 
I  hear  of   rumors  flying  thro'    your 

court. 
Our  bond,  as  not  the  bond  of  man  and 

wife, 
Should  have  in  it  an  absoluter  trust 
To  make  up  that  defect :  let  rumors 

be : 
When  did  not  rumors  fly  ?  these,  as  I 

trust 
That  you  trust  me  in  your  own  noble- 
ness, 
I  may  not  well  believe  that  you  be- 
lieve." 

While  thus  he   spoke,  half  turn'd 

away,  the  Queen 
Brake  from  tho  vast  oriel-embowering 

vine 
Leaf  after  leaf,  and  tore,  and   cast 

them  olf  J 
Till  all  the  piace  whereon  she  stood 

was  green ; 
Then,  when  ho  ceased,  in  one  cold 

passive  hand 
Beceived  at  once  and  laid  aside  the 

gems 
There  on  a  table  near  her,  and  re- 
plied. 

"  It  may  be,  I  «m  quicker  of  belief 
Than  you  believe  me,  Lancelot  of  the 

Lake 
Our  bond  is  not  the  bond  of  man  and 

wife. 
This  good  is  in  it,  whatsoe'er  of  ill. 
It  can  be  broken  easier.    I  for  you 
This  many  a  year  have  done  despite 

and  wrong 
To  one  whom   ever  in  my  heart  of 

hearts 
I  did  acknowledge  nobler.    What  are 

these  ? 
Diamonds   for  me?  they    had   been 

thrice  their  worth 
Being  your  gift,  had  you  not  lost  your 

own. 
To  loyal  hearts  the  value  of  all  gifts 
Must  vary  as  the  giver's.    Not  for  me  ! 
For  her  f  for  your  new  fancy.    Only 

this 
Grant  me,  I  pray  you  :  have  your  joys 

apart. 
I  doubt  nottluit  however  changed,  you 

keep 


I 


Deck  liBT  vrltli   Uioso;  ieJI   lier  ab 
■hinea  m»  duvrii : 

In  luggBrd,  or  ■  UBi^klaoe  tot  n  neck 
Wu  livher  IbBii  Uieae  dbiQiDnila— lier 
Nn;.  1^  Uhi  motlur  oC  our  Lord  lilm 
Or  lieis  nr  mine,  mine  non  to  work  m; 
eiio  BlisU  notliave  them." 

Ssyliig  wlilch  shn  i 


And,  thro'  Ilia 

lot  Ileal, 

Finns  tl-em.  and  ^'™  * 

Tlien  fcuni  tlio  Bmlcteu  eiu. 


ibejpBSt 
It,  111  half 


Then  wliilo  Sii  Loncelul 

dleenat 
At  love,  UCe,  all  things,  on  the  windoi 

le.lBB. 
Cloae  uiidirrneath  hla  eyes,  uiii  rigli 

'Wliere  these  hud  fallen,  BlDwly  paa 
iiililg",  iiL 


'WUlo  thus    the;  bubbled  at  I 

B  clrt  vlUi  hnighLei  It 

From  ihe  bt^-fnce  to  ibafuIl<yo,uiil 

And  pointeil  to  the  damBel,  and  lU 

So  ArUiuc'bode  the  meek  Sir  Ficd- 

Anil  pnre  Sir  Galahad  to  uplin  Ot 

And   teteianlW  they  bore   bar  InM 

hall, 
nien  came  the  flne  (iswalii  auil  «»- 

And  LanciJlot  later  came  and  louHdU 

her. 
And  lost  the  Qaeen  henelf  and  pIlM 

Dut  Arthur  apicd  the  letter  In  in 

Stoopt,  took,  brake  aeal,  oud  Kid  II) 


lUlher,  to  take  my  hut  fuenll  U 

I  loyed  you,  and  my  loia  Lad  no  i» 

And  theretora  toy  true  lore  hu  bw 

the«l™ 

"  nOtikp  ]n,l1,4    riHalc#.„,u,„_ 


<ur  lady  Gnli 

idlea,  I  Biaki: 

iTay  Lor  my  houi,  and  yield  nn 

Tray  tor  my  aoul  thou  14»,  Bit 

Ab  thou  art  a  knight  peorlesa," 

Tbu. 

And  erer  In  the   reading,  tu 

Wept,  looking  cftsn  from  Ida  1 
To  bera  which  lay  bo  silent. 
So  loucU;d' Here  they,  bair-thlnklm 


that  her  lire, 
al^in. 


Who  h 


I  the 


Then  freely  apoko  Sir  Ijui«lol  to 
'■  My  lord  Uege'  Arthur,  and  all  y«  It 
Know  that  tar  this  moat  gentle  mal 
Right  hoavy  am  I ;  for  good  ibo  m 


1 


LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE. 


809 


Bnt  loTcd  me  with  a  Ioto  beyond  all 

love 
In  women,  whomsoever  I  have  known. 
Yet  to  be  loved  makes  not  to  love 

again ; 
Not  at  my  years,  however  it  hold  in 

youth. 
I  swear  by  truth  and  knighthood  that 

I  gave 
Xo  cause,  not  willingly,  for  such  a 

love : 
To  this  I  call  my  friends  in  testimony. 
Her  brethren,  and  her  father,  who 

himself 
Besought  me  to  be  plain  and  blunt, 

and  use. 
To  break  her  passion,  some  discourtesy 
Against  my  nature :  what  I  could,  I 

did. 
I  left  her  and  I  bade  her  no  farewell. 
Tho*,  had  I  dreamt  the  damsel  would 

have  died, 
I  might  have  put  my  wits  to  some 

roueh  use. 
And  helped  her  from  herself.*' 

Then  said  the  Queen 
(Sea  was  her  wrath,  yet  working  after 

storm) 
**  Ye  might  at  least  have  done  her  so 

much  grace. 
Fair  lord,  as  would  have  help*d  her 

from  her  death." 
He  raised  his  head,  their  eyes  met  and 

hers  fell, 
He  adding, 

•'  Queen,  she  would  not  bo  content 
Save  that  I  wedded  her,  which  could 

not  be. 
Then  might  she  follow  me  thro*  the 

world,  she  ask'd : 
It  could  not  be.    1  told  her  that  her 

love 
Was  but  the  flash  of  youth,  would 

darken  down 
To  rise  hereafter  in  a  stiller  flame 
Toward  one  more  worthy  of  her — then 

would  I, 
More  specially  were  he,  she  wedded, 

poor. 
Estate  them  with  large  land  and  terri- 
tory 
In  mine  own  realm  beyond  the  narrow 

seas. 
To  keep  them  in  all  joyance :  more 

than  this 
1  could  not ;  this  she  would  not,  and 

she  died." 

He  pausing,  Arthur  answer'd,  **0 


my  knight, 
--         th 
a 
liouiid. 


It  will  be  to  thy  worship,  as  my  knight, 
And  mine,  as  head  of  all  our  Table 


To  see  that  she  be  buried  worship- 
XuUy." 

So  toward  that  shrine  which  then  in 
•U  the  realm 


Was  richest,  Arthur  leading,  slowly 
went 

The  marshall'd  order  of  their  Table 
Kound, 

And  Lancelot  sad  beyond  his  wont,  to 
see 

The  maiden  buried,  not  as  one  un- 
known. 

Nor  meanly,  but  with  gorgeous  obse- 
quies. 

And  mass,  and  rolling  music,  like  a 
Queen. 

And  when  the  knights  had  laid  hei 
comely  head 

Low  in  the  dust  of  half-forgotten  kings. 

Then    Arthur    spake    among    them, 
"  I-iCt  her  tomb 

Be  costly,  and  her  image  thereupon. 

And  let  the  shield  of  Lancelot  at  her 
feet 

Be  carven,  and  her  lily  in  her  hand. 

And  let  the  story  of  her  dolorous  voy- 
age 

For  all  true  hearts  be  blazon*d  on  her 
tomb 

In  letters  gold   and   azure  t  '*  which 
was  wrought 

Thereafter ;  but  when  now  the  lords 
and  dames 

And  people,  from  the  high  door  stream- 
ing, brake 

Disorderly,   as  homeward  each,  the 
Queen, 

Who  mark'd  Sir  Lancelot  where  he 
moved  apart, 

Drew  near,   and    sigh*d    in   passing 
**  Lancelot, 

Forgive  me ;  mine  was  jealousy  in 
love." 

He  answcr*d  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground, 

"  That  is  love's  curse  ;  pass  on,  my 
Queen,  forgiven." 

But  Arthur  who  beheld  his   cloudy 
brows 

Approach'd  him,  and  with  full  affec- 
tion flung 

One  arm  about  his  neck,  and  spake 
and  said. 

"Lancelot,  my  Lancelot,  thou  in 

whom  I  have 
Most  love  and  most  affiance,  for  I 

know 
What  thou  hast  been  in  battle  by  my 

side. 
And  many  a  time  have  watched  thee 

at  the  tilt 
Strike  down  the  lusty  and  long-prao- 

tised  knight, 
And  let  the  younger  and  unskilPd  go 

by 
To  win  his  honor  and  to   make  his 

name. 
And  loved  thy  courtesies  and  thee,  a 

man 
Made  to  be  loved ;  but  now  I  would 

to  God. 
For  the  wild  people  say  wild  things  of 

theot 


t 


\ 


THE  HOLY  GIUIL. 


d  fiom  bur 

una  naj  Judge  the  Uvlns  by  Ihe 

DuUFSlely  pare  and  ninrvelloasly  fair, 
*"'  -  mlgtitliave  brought  tlii»e,  iiuw  a 

I  Myknigbt.'  the  great  Sii  Lancelot  of 


I   To  doubt  her  Mrneaa  wera  IQ  waul  an 

I  To  doubt  ber  purcneea  nera  to  wont  a 

Cea,  to  be  lovod.  It  what  Is  worthy  love 
:ould  bind  him,  hut  Ircolovo  will  not 

be  bound,'' 
"F«a  loTe,  lo  bound,  were  freSst." 

Bsld  the  Klliu. 
■  Lot  love  iM  free ;  Icee  Ioyb  la  toe  tha 


I 


id  lifted  up  bis 

^nd  saw  the  barge  that  broueht  het 

FarnilT,  »  bw  upon  the  stream,  and 

Bald 
low  In  liinnelf  "  Ah  aiaiplo  heart  and 

re  loved  me,  damsel,  lurclj'  with  a 

man  my  Queen'g.    Pray 

Pure  well,  fair  Illy.  'Joalou 
Ifot   rather   dead  love'a  1 

Queen,  if  I  entit  'the  Jea 

Epeok,  BB   it  waxes,  of  a 
Why  liid  tlio'  Klne  dwell  o 


t  ft^r,  T 


Heard  on  the  winding  watt 

She  klES'd  ma  aayliig  thou 

child,  * 

As  a  klng'a  son,  and  often  In  he 
She  bare   me,  pacing   on  tlia 

Would  aha   had   drowu'd  ue 

where'er  it  bet 
For  what  am  I  ?  what  proSta  [ 

Of  gieaieal  knight?  I  foughl  for  li 

Plea 


WlialBhouldbaheat,  1£  not  H.  pure  a 

Blie  fall'd  to  bind,  Iho'  behie,  oa  I 
Unbound   as   yet.   and  gentle,   ai   I 

These  bon<U  that  ao  defsmo  ma*  i.m 
without 

I  pray  him,  aond  a  sudden  AnKl  do" 
To  seiiB  me  by  the  bnlr  auilTjesi  Ua 

And  fling  me  deep  lii  that  forBoHiO 

Amonu  the  _tuinh!od  fniBnientJ  ot  Uw 

And  Lancelot  answer'd  nothing,  hut 

Andattheiiirnnnlngnf  a  little  brook 
Silt  by  the  river  in  a  tove,  and  WKtch'd 

Bo  gronn'd  Sir  Lancelot  in  teiMBi- 
tul  pain, 
Sot  kuowlug  he  ahoulddle  a  holy  mill, 


THE   HOLT   ORAIU 

Frou  ncdaeful  arma,  and  acta  oF  ptov-. 

In  tounianiBiit  or  Ult,  Sir  Peralnl*. 
Whom   Arthur  and    hia    knlibthooi 

call'd  The  Pure. 
Had  psa»'d   Into  the  allent  life  «( 

Praise,  fait,  and  alma;  and  leOTln| 


And  one,  a  fellow-monk  amoni  tlM 
.mbroalui.  loved  Mm  nucli  twjoad 


■Ml 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 


211 


jLnd  honor'd  him,  and  livrought  into 
his  heart 

A  way  by  love  that  waken'd  love  with- 
in, 

To  answer  that  which  came :  and  as 
they  sat 

Beneath  a  world-old  yew-tree,  darken- 
ing half 

The  cloisters,  on  a  gnstful  April  mom 

That  pulT'd  the  swaying  branches  into 
smoke 

Above  them,  ere  the  summer  when  he 
died, 

The  monk  Amhrosius  questioned  Perci- 
vale: 

**0  hrother,  I  have  seen  this  yew- 
tree  smoke. 
Spring  after  spring,  for  half  a  hundred 

years: 
For  never  have  I  known  the  world 

without. 
Nor  ever  stray 'd  beyond  the  pale:  but 

thee, 
When  first  thou  camest—such  a  cour^ 

tesy 
Spake   thro*   the  limbs  and  in   the 

voice— I  knew 
For  one  of  those  who  eat  in  Arthur's 

liall; 
For  good  ye  are  and  bad,  and  like  to 

coinc-, 
Some  true,  some  light,  but  every  one 

of  you 
Stamped  with  the  imago  of  the  King ; 

and  now 
Tell  me,  what  drove  thee  from  the 

Table  Hound, 
My  brother?  was  it  earthly  passion 

crost?" 

«*Nay,"  said  the  knight;  "for  no 
such  passion  mine. 

But  the  sweet  vision  of  the  Holy  Grail 

Drove  me  from  all  vainglories,  rival- 
ries. 

And  earthly  heats. that  spring  and 
sparkle  out 

Among  us  in  the  jousts,  while  women 
watch 

Who  wins,  who  falls ;  and  waste  the 
spiritual  strengtb 

Within  us,  better  oner'd  up  to  Hea- 
ven," 

To  "Whom  the  monk :   "  The  Holy 

Grail !— I  trust 
Wo  are  green  in  Heaven's  eyes ;  but 

here  too  much 
We  moulder— as  to  things  without  I 

mean — 
Yet  one  of  your  own  knights,  a  guest 

of  ours. 
Told  us  of  this  in  our  refectory. 
But  spake  with  such  a  sadness  and  so 

low 
We  heanl  not  half  of  what  he  said. 

What  is  it  ? 
The  phantom  of  a  cup  that  comes  and 

goes?'* 


**  Nay,  monk  !  what  phantom  ?"  an- 

swer'd  Percivale. 
''The  cup,  the  cup  itself, from  which 

our  Lord 
Drank  at  the  last  sad  supper  with  his 

own. 
This,  from  the  blessed  land  of  Aromat-^ 
After  the  day  of  darkness,  when  the 

dead 
Went   wandering   o'er  Moriah— the 

good  saint, 
Arimathsean      Joseph,       journeying 

brought 
To  Glastonbury,  where  the    winter 

thorn 
Blossoms  at  Christmas,  mindful  of  our 

Lord. 
And  there  awhile  it  bode ;  and  if  a 

man 
Could  touch  or  see  it,  he  was  heal'd  at 

once, 
By  faith,  of  all  his  ills.    But  then  the 

times 
Grew  to  such  evil  that  the  holy  cup 
Was  caught  away  to  Heaven,  and  dis- 

appear'd." 

To  whom  the  monk  :  **  From  our  old 
books  I  know 

That  Joseph  came  of  old  to  Glaston- 
bury, 

And  there  the  heathen  Prince,  Arvira- 


fir- 


Gave  him  an  isle  of  marsh  whereon  to 
build ; 

And  there  he  built  with  wattles  from 
the  marsh 

A  little  lonely  church  in  days  of  yore, 

For  so  they  say,  tbese  books  of  ours, 
but  seem 

Muto  of  this  miracle,  far  as  I  have 
read. 

But  who  first  saw  the  holy  thing  to- 
day?" 


**A  woman,"   answer'd   Percivale, 

"a  nun, 
And  one  no  further  off  in  blood  from 

me 
Than  sister ;  and  if  ever  holy  maid 
With  knees  of  adoration  wore  the 

stone, 
A  holy  maid;  tho*  never  maiden  glow'd. 
But  tliat  was  in  her  earlier  maiden- 
hood, 
With  such  a  fervent  flame  of  human 

love. 
Which  being  rudely  blunted,  glanced 

and  shot 
Only  to  holy  things ;   to  prayer   and 

praise 
She  gave  herself,  to  fast  and  alms. 

And  yet. 
Nun  as  she  was,  the  scandal  of  the 

Court, 
Sin  iu;ainst  Arthur  and  the    Table 

Hound, 
And  the  strange  sound  of  an  adultex^ 

ous  race. 
Across  the  iron  grating  of  het  cell 


t 


i 


312  THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 

B«it,  anil  she  pmy'd  and  taated  nil  the 

"  And  be  lo  wliom  tlio  to1<1  licr  liiiB, 

Har  all  but  utiec  ivli1t«iieiie  held  toi 

A  mitiiwetlnlglinbunclredwlnienoldi 
Spako  ofWii  wltli  herot  lUa  Holy  Urnll. 

And  eocli  n[  tlie«e  a  liaudied  nlutera 

old. 
From   our  Lord'I  tlma.    Alld   nhcn 

His  Table  KoDiiO,  aud  all  men's  lieoctB 

Clean  [or  a  eeuon,  aurely  lie  liod 

thouBbt 
Tliatnowflie  Hoi;  GnO!  noold  come 


■OFatlieil'  nslEedUiomnlilaii, ' 

It  come 
TomebyDraj-erandfaBIijlg?'  ■ 


She  nilgtit  bave  A^len  and  Hi 

"Fot  on  A  day  nho  Bcnl 
witli  nis. 

lier  eyes 
Bejond  my  kHowliiB  of  tbc 

Bayond  all  knowlne  of  thar 

Beaulltu'l  In  the  Uebt  of  hnllm 
And'O  niv  '--■'—    - — '— 
uUd, 


'  Sweet  brotho; 

Qcail : 
For,  waked  at 


I  hSTB  seen  tbe  Holy 
sad  of  nigbt,  I  board  a. 


by  toDouliEbti 
a  dlelance  beyond  itlstanco 
baip  nor 
^Vi'l  we  blow  wHb 


Ab  from  a  dlelance  beyond 

KNor  niigiil  we  blow  with  1 
loach  wltb  band, 
^Bs  like  that  muBla  oh  it  ci 
fitreain'il  thro'  my  cell  a 
allver  beam. 
And  down  the  long  beam 
Holy  Grail. 
Roee-red  with  beatlngt   In 


Till  all  a,o  whILe  wall!  nf  ray  cell  VMI 

'With  Toay  colon  leaping  on  the  wdl: 
And  then   Uia   mUElo  faded,  and  Uu 

FasB'd,  and  the  benm    deeay'd,  lut 

Tlio  loay    qulvetiuga  died    Into 

So  now  the  Holy  Tblnn  is  here  ii 
AmoiiB  US,  broUier,  faM  Ihou  too 

And  tall  tiiy  brolher  knights  to  fill' 

That  «o  pBrthaiicB  lOie  viaiou  may  U 

By  thee  and  those,  all  Uia  wi 


To  all  ni 


indor  lluit  woulil 


knight;  and  none, 
In  BO  yonng  youth,  was 

knlghi 
TillOalaEad;  and  tills  Gj 

be  heaiti 
MTBlsWr'HTiilon.tin'dnii 
Ula  eyes  becaiue  no 

Here,  ami  himsell 


Iier  owu,  I 

brotbet  n 


"Sister  or  broUicr  Kone  had  bei  bBl 

Call-d  liim  a  sou  of  Lancelot,  an' 

Bald 
BeBoltan  by  eiichanlmcnt— ihatterurt 

Like  birdB  of  pasBace  piping  np  and 

Tliat.  gape   toe    flies  — wo  kiio 

s  LauculDt  wnnderiiiisly 


Bhe,  the  wan  cwect  n 

from  her   forehead    all 

ealtli  of  hair 

made  H  tilken  mat-worli  far  bei 

I  of  this  Bbe  plaited  bna 

Lg  iword'holt,  and  wovB  wUli 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 


813 


And  crimson  In  the  belt  a  strange 

device* 
A  crimson  grail  within  a  silver  beam : 
And  saw  the  bright  boy-knight,  and 

bound  it  on  him, 
Saying,   *My   Icnight,   my    love,    my 

knight  of  heaven, 
O  then,  my  love,  whose  love  -is  one 

with  mine, 
I,  maiden,  round  thee,  maiden,  bind  my 

belt. 
Oo  forth,  for  thou  shalt  see  what  I 

have  seen. 
And  break  thro'  all,  till  one  will  crown 

thee  king 
Far  in  the  spintual  city  :  *  and  as  she 

spake 
She  sent  the  deathless  passion  in  her 

eyes 
Thro'  him,  and  made  him  hers,  and 

laid  her  mind 
On  him,  and  he  believed  in  her  belief. 

*'Then  came  a  year  of  miracle:  O 
brother. 

In  our  great  hall  there  stood  a  vacant 
chair, 

Fashion'd  by  Merlin  ere  he  past  away. 

And  carven  with  strange  ligures  ;  and 
in  and  out 

The  flffures.  like  a  serpent,  ran  a  scroll 

Ot  letMri*  in  a  tongue  no  man  could 
read. 

And  Merlin  caird  it  <  The  Siege  peril- 
ous,* 

Perilous  for  good  and  ill ;  'for  there,* 
he  said, 

*Ko  man  could  sit  but  he  should  lose 
himself : ' 

And  once  by  misadvertencc  Merlin  sat 

In  his  own  chair,  and  so  was  lost ;  but 
he, 

Galahad,  when  he  heard  of  Merlin*s 
doom. 

Cried,  *  If  I  lose  myself  I  save  my- 
self !* 

**  Then  on  a  summer  night  it  came 

to  pass, 
Willie  the  great  banquet  lay  along  the 

hall. 
That  Galahad  would  sit  down  in  Mer- 

lin*s  chair. 

**  And  all  at  once,  as  there  we  sat, 

we  heard 
A  cracking  and  a  riving  of  the  roofs, 
Aiul  rending,  and  a  blast,  and  over- 
head 
Thunder,  and  in  tlie  thunder  was  a 

cry. 
And  in  the  blast  there  smote  along  the 

hall 
A  beam  of  light  seven  times  more  clear 

than  day : 
And  down  the  long  beam  stole  the 

Holy  Grail 
All  over  cover'd  with   a  luminous 

cloud, 
And  none  might  see  who  bare  it,  and 

it  past. 


But  every  knight  beheld  his  fellow*s 

face 
As  in   a  glory,  and  all  the   knights 

arose, 
And  staring  each  at  other  like  dumb 

men 
Stood,  till  I  found  a  voice  and  sware  a 

vow. 

**  I  sware  a  vow  before  them  all,  that 

I. 
Because  I  had  not  seen  the  Groil, 

would  ride 
A  twelvemonth  and  a  day  in  quest  of 

it. 
Until  I  found  and  saw  it,  as  the  nun 
My  sister  saw  it;  and  Galahad  sware 

the  vow. 
And  good   Sir  Bors,  our  Lancelot's 

cousin,  sware, 
And  Lancelot  sware,  and  many  among 

the  knights, 
And  Gawain  sware,  and  louder  than 

the  rest." 

Then  spake  the  monk  Ambrosius, 
asking  him, 
''What  said  the  King?  IMd  Arthur 
take  the  vow  ?  *' 

**  Nay,  for  my  lord,**  said  Percivale^ 
"  the  king, 
Was  not  in  hall :  for  early  that  some 

flay, 
Scaped  thro'  a  cavern  from  a  bandit 

hold. 
An  outraged  maiden  sprang  into  the 

liall 
Crying  on  help :  for  all  her  shining 

hair 
Was  sniear'd  with  cartli,  and  either 

milky  arm 
Bed-rent  with  hooks  of  bramble,  and 

all  she  wore 
Tom  as  a  soil  that  leaves  the  rope  is 

torn 
In  tempest:   so  the  king  arose  and 

went 
To  smoke  the  scandalous  hive  of  those 

wild  bees 
That  made  such  honey  in  his  realm. 

Ilowbeit 
Some  little  of  this  marvel  he  too  ssw, 
Ketuming  o'er  the  plain   that  tlieu 

began 
To  darken  under  Camelot;  whence  the 

king 
Look'd  up,  calling  aloud,  *  Lo  there  I 

the  roofs 
Of  our  great  hall  are  rolled  in  thunder- 
smoke  I 
Pray  Heaven,  they  be  not  smitten  by 

the  bolt.* 
For  dear  to  Arthur  was  that  hall  of 

ours, 
As  havinff  there  so  oft  with  all  his 

knights 
Feasted,  and  as  the  stateliest  under 

heaven. 


r 


\ 


TUB  HOLY  GRAIL. 


tho  ncred  iriosnt  nr  Caivflli 
I  I1.B  dim  rloli  fliy.  rnnl  hj-f. 
Lp!rBl»joiiil»p 


CUmbs  loThe  mlglitv  hall  Uist  Merlin 
And  four  ereat  lonnB  ol  aculplure,  cat 
WIUi  losny  a  mystic  symbol,  glnl  Uio 
Audlii  Ibe  lowoBt  bcaala  are  riayliig 
And  in  Uie  aecond  men  are  alaylnB 
I  And  on  the  third  ace  wsrrion.  perfect 


1   naak'd 
KorUiei 


by  Merlin,  wicb  a 
'a    vringa    pointed    to  the 


I    And  both  tbe  winaa  bib  niadeoTBOtd, 
'-  and  flame 

iinrise  till  tbs  peop]  e  in  far  flelcis, 
,  ...-tadaoottenbythebfathenhordw, 
I  Bebold  it,  crying,  '  We  bave  sLiU  a 

And,  brother,  bad  you  known  our 
,  haU  wiLbi.T. 

I  Brooder  and  Liglier  than  any  in  all 


Arthui 

1  all  Ibe 

board 


light  that  fallB  npon  flu 
'ClTe  great  battlai 


■WeaUliy   with  » 


And  blank  ;  and  vho  shall  blsaoa  it : 

when  and  hem  7  — 
O  thers  perahance,  when  all  our  wan 


io  to  Uiia  liall  full  quickly  roda  tho 

King, 
lorror  lest  the  work  by  Meilli 

wrought, 
imlike.  alipuld  on  tho  sudden  Tan 


Tba  golden  dragon  et 


Tkliog. 


IT  all! 


Darken 


luBo  Hho  bniui  lUe  hoidt 

Ilack'd.  anil  their  loteheadi  grlmad 

Follow'd,  audiu  'otnong  bright  laut, 

Full  oClhDTlelon,  preat:  aniltbentbt 

King 
Spake  to  me,  being  neatest,  'Feret 

Vowing,  and  some  protestlDe>> '  *1>I' 

"  O  brothsr.  wbon  I  told  him  wlui 
hul  cbani-tid. 
My  alsler'a  ilalou,  and  the  rtat,  Ui 

have  Been  It  mora  UUB 

cave  deed  aeein'd  U  t« 

i.iin. 

Woe  la  me,  my  Intlghli,* 

je  bod  not  nnoi 

Bald  was  mluo  BJISwer, '  Had  IhyHlt 

My  King,  thou'woaldst  I 

'  Yea,  yea,"  aaid  ho, 
'  Art  thou  BO  bold  aod  hi 

the  Grail  7' 


"Than  when  ho  asked  ua,  knight bf 
knight,  it  any  ^ 

Had  Been  it,  all  their  anaweiB  were  U 

'  Say,  Lord,  and  theretora   hkT*  w» 


•"Ijt,  now,'  >ald  Ai 

Been  a  cloud? 

What  go  ye  into  the  will 

"Then  Galahad  on  t 

ShrilliL'S; 


hall   I 


'  But  I.  Sir  Attlinr,  saw  tha  HolyflraU. 

I  saw  the  Holy  OratI  and  hr-  -  ■  -  — 

OGalahnd,aiidO  Galahad, 

" '  Ah,  Galahad.  Calulind,'  laid  llw 

Ivlng. -lOTBUCh 

xiiy  holy  nun  and  thou  hata  • 

slcn— 
Holier  IB  none,  my   ParolT«I«, 

A  sign  lo  maim  tlila  Order  which  [ 

But  ynu.  that  follow  but  thi 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 


815 


(Brother,  the  King  was  hard  upon  his 
kiiightB) 

'  Taliessiii  is  our  fullest  throat  of  iK>ne, 

And  one  hath  sung  and  all  the  dunu) 
will  siiig. 

Lancelot  is  XjEtncelot,  and  hath  over- 
borne 

Five  knights  at  once,  and  every  young- 
er knight. 

TJnproven,  holds  himself  as  Lancelot, 

Till  overborne  by  one,hc  leanis—andye, 

What  are  ye  ?  Galahads  ?— no,  nor  Per- 
civales  * 

(For  thus  it  pleased  the  King  to  range 
nie  close 

After  Sir  Galahad) ;  *  nay,*  said  he,  *  but 
men 

With  strength  and  will  to  right  the 
wronjfd,  of  power 

To  lay  the  sudden  heads  of  violence  fiat, 

Knlgnts  that  in  twelve  great  battles 
splash'd  and  dyed 

The  strong  White  Horse  in  his  own 
heathen  blood — 

But  one  hath  seen,  and  all  the  blind 
will  see. 

GtOf  since  your  vows  are  sacred,  being 
made : 

Yet— for  ye  know  the  cries  of  all  my 
realm 

Pass  thro'  this  hall— how  often,  O  my 
knights, 

Your  places  being  vacant  at  my  side, 

This  chance  of  noble  deeds  will  come 
and  go 

Tnchallenged,  while  you  follow  wan- 
dering fires 

Lost  in  the  quagmire  ?    Many  of  you, 
yea  roost, 

Betum  no  more  :  ye  think  I  show  my- 
self 

Too  dark  a  prophet :  come  now,  let  us 
meet 

The  morrow  mom  once  more  in  one  full 
field 

Of  gracious  pastime,  that  once  more  the 
King, 

Before  you  leave  him  for  this  Quest, 
may  count 

The  yet-unbroken  strength  of  all  his 
knights, 

Bejoicing  in  that  Order  which  he  made.' 

**  So  when  the  sun  broke  next  from 

under  ground. 
All  the  great  table  of  our  Arthur  closed 
And  clash'd  in  such  a  tourney  and  so 

full. 
So  many  lances  broken— never  yet 
Had  Camelot  seen  the  like,  since  Arthur 

came. 
And  I    myself    and   Galahad,  for  a 

strength 
Was  in  us  from  the  vision,  overthrew 
So  manv  knights  that  all  the  people 

cried, 
And  almost  burst  the  barriers  in  their 


*'  But  when  the  next  day  brake  from 

under  ground — 

O  brother,  had  you  known  our  Camelot, 

Built  by  old  kings,  ace  after  nge,  so  old 

The  Kins  himself  had  fears  that  ic 

would  fall. 
So  strange,  and  rich,  and  dim;  for 

where  the  roofs 
Totter'd  toward  each  other  in  the  sky. 
Met  foreheads  all  along  the  street  of 

those 
Who  watch'd  us  pass  ;  and  lower,  and 

where  the  long 
Rich  galleries,  lady^aden,  weigh'd  the 

necks 
Of  drAgons  clinging  to  the  crazv  walls, 
Thicker   than    drops    from   thunder, 

showers  of  fiowers 
Fell  as  we  past;  and  men  and  boys 

astride 
On  wyvern,  lion,  dragon,  griffin,  swan. 
At  all  the  comers,  named  us  each  by 

name, 
Calling  *  God  speed  ! '  but  in  the  street 

below 
The  knishts  and  ladies  wept,  and  rich 

and  poor  • 

Wept,  and  the  King  himself  could 

hardly  speak 
For  grief,  and  in  the  middle  street  th« 

Queen, 
Who  rode  by  Lancelot,  wail'd  and 

shriek'd  aloud, 
'  This  madness  has  come  on  us  for  our 

sins.' 
And  then  we  reach'd  the  weirdly-sculp- 
tured gate. 
Where  Arthur's  wars  were  render'd 

mystically. 
And  thence  departed  every  one  his 

way. 

'And  I  was  lifted  up  in  heart,  and 

thought 
Of  all  my  late-shown  prowess  in  the 

lists, 
How  my    strong   lance    had   beaten 

down  the  knights. 
So  many  and  famous  names ;  and  never 

yet 
Had  heaven  appear'd  so  blue,  nor  earth 

so  green. 
For  all  my  blood  danced  in  me,  and  I 

knew 
That  I  should  light  upon   the  Holy 

Grail. 

**  Thereafter,  the  dark  warning  of  our 
King, 

That  most  of  us  would  follow  wander- 
ing fires. 

Came  like  a  driving  gloom  across  my 
mind. 

Then  every  evil  word  I  had  spoken 
once. 

And  every  evil  thought  I  had  thought 
of  old. 


heat.  And  every  evil  deed  I  ever  did, 

Shouting  'Sir  Galahad  and  SirPerci-     Awoke  and  cried,  *  This  Quest  is  not  for 
vue  I '  '  thttQ.' 


ni  THE  nor. 


WodU  •Uf  BIO.  ■■•  a«p  li 


t  back  Dpoa  tb«  sloping 


Fallen,  and  on  Uie  tawu.    '  J  will  ittc 

here,- 
1  aijd,  ■  1  am  tiot  wonhj  oC  the  Qnnt ; ' 
But  Eien  vlule  I  dnak  Lbe  brouk,  anil 

The  gaoiOT  apples,  all  these  thing*  at 

Fell  into™  mt,  and  I  n>  Mt  alone, 
i  ttaiminft  ill  »  land  of  aaujand 

And  then  beboM  a  voman  at  a  door 
niilng :  and  tair  the  hoosa  whereby 

And  Iclnd  the  woman's  eyes  Bad  hino- 

And  all  her  bearing  giacioBB ;  and  she 


'  Re«e  here 
lo!  bI 

Fen  mio  d 


In  tt  a  deadbabe  : 
]  into  duat,  and  1  wa 
And  on  I  rode,  and  j 


broken  i>hed. 


ih-d  a  ;eIlo« 


torld. 


te  the  plonghaharo  in 


le  ploushmau  left  hia  ploughing,  a 

ifore  it;  where   it  Elitter'U  o]i  li 

nail, 
le  nAllmuud  left  bei  milkliig,  and  f> 

•.lore  It.  and  I  Itncw  not  whf ,  l 

lie  Bun  iB  riking,-  tlio'  Ibe  sun  h 
Then  vat  I  irare  of  one  tlmt  on  i 


Betng  BO  huge.  But  v: 


And  up  1  went  ami  toiidL'd  ldni,ii 


ilUioughlte^H 

^""•■^!  I! 


"  And  1  rode  □: 
hill, 


il  found  a 


Andoi.. 
PniU'd 


fdiblfl  ifliinaclflkl 
gatevBf  atirr'd  a  cron 
Cried  io  me  elimblng,  ■  Weloom*.  ft 
TliDu  mlghilest  and  thou  pnnol  uea 
Andfflad  waatoud  clomb,hat  fooi 
any  voice.    Anilliiainl 


I  had  a 


iM 


OnlToneman  o .,  .,_.. 

'  WbeteialluitgDodlxcompaiir/i^t, 
'That  BO  crteil  out  upon  toar'aadh 


leitT.andl 


'  n^ence  and  what  art  tbou  I '  sikl  nta 


,,Fft 


II  waa^eK 


The  lileheat  virtue,  nii 
For  when  the  Lord  ol 

Himself 

KBked  of  elory  for  Hi«  Rinrlat  etuuuK>  I 
■'Take  thou  my  robe,"  she  Mdd.-Toll 

all  is  Ihiiw,"  " 

And  all  her  form  ehone  forth  wllhni 

lion  light 

Follow'dhim  down,  and  Ukaaflflntl 

Led  on  the  gray-hair'd  wisdom 

But  her  thou  hut  uotklWiwu  :  fu 
^Bthla 


THE  MOLY  GRAIL. 


317 


Dion  thonglitett  of  thy  prowess  and  thy 

sins  ? 
Thou  hast  not  lost  thyself  to  save  thy- 
self 
As  Galahad.'    When  the  hermit  made 

an  end, 
In    silver  armor    suddenly   Galahad 

shone 
Before  us,  and  against  the  chapel  door 
I^id  lance,  and  enter'd,  and  we  knelt 

in  prayer. 
And  there  the  hermit  slaked  my  burn- 
ing thirst 
And  at  the  sacring  of  the  mass  I  saw  s 
The  holy  elements  alone  ;  but  he  : 
*  Saw  ye  no  more  ?  I,  Galahad,  saw  the 

Grail, 
The  Holy  Grail,  descend   upon   the 

shrine : 
I  saw  the  ilery  face  as  of  a  child 
That  smote  itself  into  the  bread,  and 

went ; 
And  hither  am  I  come  ;  and  never  yet 
Hath  what  thy  sister  taught  me  first  to 

see. 
This  Holy  Thing,  faiPd  from  my  side, 

nor  come 
Cover'd,  but  movhig  with  me  night  and 

day. 
Fainter  by  day,  but  always  in  the  night 
Blood-red,  and  sliding  down  the  black- 

en'd  marsh 
Blood-red,  and  on  the  naked  mountain 

top 
Blood-red,  and  in  the  sleeping  mere  be- 
low 
Blood-red.    And  in  the  strength  of  this 

I  rode, 
Shattering  all  evil  customs  everywhere. 
And  past  thro'  Pagan  realms,  and  made 

them  mine. 
And  clash'd  with  Pagan  hordes,  and 

bore  them  down. 
And  brake  thro'  all,  and  in  the  strength 

of  this 
Come  victor.    But  my  time  is  hard  at 

hand. 
And  hence  I  go ;  and  one  will  crown  me 

king 
Far  in  the  spiritual  city,  and  come  thou, 

too. 
For  thou  Shalt  see  the  vision  when  I  go.' 

'*  "While  thus  he  spake,  his  eye,  dwell- 
ing on  mine, 
Drew  me,  with  power  upon  me,  till  I 

grew. 
One  with  him,  to  believe  as  he  believed. 
Then,  when  the  day  began  to  wane,  we 
went. 

**  There  rose  a  hill  that  none  but  man 
could  climb. 

Scarr*d  with  a  hundred  wintry  water- 
courses— 

Storm  at  the  top,  and  when  we  gain'd 
it,  storm 

Bound  us  and  death ;  for  every  moment 

f [lanced 
^         ver  arms  and  gloom*d :  so  quick 
and  thick 


The  lightnings  hero  and  there  to  left 

and  right 
Struck,  till  the  dry  old  trunks  about  us, 

dead, 
Yea,  rotten  with  a  hundred  years  of 

deatb, 
Sprang  into  ilre :  and  at  the  base  we 

lound 
On  either  hand,  as  far  as  eye  could  see. 
A  great  black  swamp  and  of  an  evil 

smell. 
Part  black ,  part  whiten'd  with  the  bones 

of  men, 
Not  to  be  crost,  save  that  some  ancient 

king 
Had  built  a  way,  where,   link'd  with 

many  a  bridge, 
A  thousand  piera  ran  into  the  great  sea. 
And  Galahad  lied  along  them  bridge  by 

bridge. 
And  every  bridge  as  quickly  as  he  crost 
Sprang  into  tire  and  vanish'd,  tho'  I 

yearn'd 
To  follow;  and  thrice  above  him  all 

the  heavens 
Open'd  and  blazed  with  thunder  such 

as  seeni'd 
Shoutings  of  all  the  sons  of  God  :  and 

first 
At  once  I  saw  him  far  on  the  great  sea,* 
In  silver-shining  armor  starry-clear ; 
And  o'er  his  head  the  holy  vessel  hung 
Clothed  in  white  samite  or  a  luminous 

cloud. 
And  with  exceeding  swiftness  ran  the 

boat 
If  boat  it  were—I  saw  not  whence  it 

came. ' 
And  when  the   heavens   open*d   and 

blazed  again 
Boaring,  I  saw  him  like  a  silver  star— 
And  had  he  set  the  sail,  or  had  the  boat 
Become  a  living  creature   clad  with 

wings? 
And  o'er  his  head  the  holy  vessel  hung 
Kedder  than  any  rose,  a  joy  to  me, 
For  now  I  knew  the  veil  had  been  with- 
drawn. 
Then  in  a  moment  when  theyblazeil 

again 
Opening,  I  saw  the  least  of  little  stara 
Down  on  the  waste,  and  straight  l>eyond 

the  star 
I  saw  the  spiritual  city  and  all  her  spires 
And  gateways  in  a  glory  like  one  pearl- 
No  larger, tho'  the  goal  of  all  the  saints- 
Strike  from  the  sea ;  and  from  the  star 

there  shot 
A  rose-red  sparkle  to  the  city,  and  there 
Dwelt.and  I  knew  it  was  the  Holy  Grail, 
Which  never  eyes  on  earth  again  shall 

see. 
Then  fell  the  flootls  of  heaven  drown- 
ing the  deep. 
And  how  my  feet  recross'd  the  deatli- 

ful  ridge 
No  memory  in  me  lives ;  but  that  I 

touch'd 
The  chapel-doors  at  dawn  I  know ;  and 

thence 


V 


1 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 


^ 


Ttlcing  taj  vu-bon*  troni  tlie  hoi; 
Qladthat  eo  pluimom  Text  me  more 
To  whence  I  came,  tbe  gitLe  »t  Arthai'i 

"  O  brother,"   mk'd    Ambroslu*,- 

Theia  ancleiit  books— ojid  tbej  wouU 

OnlTl  Hud  iiDt  there  thla  Hoi;  Orall. 
With  miniele*  end  mstveL.   Uke    it 

rwbkhoft 


M'horeodbv 

Till  ray  he«< 

andpB 

Down  to  ibi 


fulk 


And   BTery  bonialy 
Dellshl   mj'telt  wlU 
And  IUb  an'd  schca,  DUd 
Andmlrtbful  uyUigs,  r'. 


CUnSerliiga  and  ci 

oC  mine, 
Yea,  oven  in  the] 


wUhpsse 
>wini»;  anu  men  go  fortl 

little  tborpa  Ibit  lies  b< 

plaater'd  Uko  a  nanjn' 

nilugle  i.it! 

ig' BTery  boncst  foee   o 

ever  ebeplierd  knew  bl 

In    tbcl 


uinga,  ly- 
a  league 


Tbcn.SlrPorclvnle 


■Why  wilt  tbou  >bBme  ma 

loeont™ 

How  fa 

rlhadlalnwni 

my  quest  ai 

A^bo'dJ. 

nyjiigbl.^^ 

In  craw 

aiidbutUockpIi. 

Biebuueed 

And  u. 

Bgre,  and  the  vl.lon  bad  B 

45K 

e^'eaTdwoU^^g 

■.•ffiB 

The  Peine 


Thither  I  made,  and  Iben  wu  1  dl» 

arra'd 
Bt  nmidens  each  as  f^r  u  any  tlatti; 
tulbey^iod  mo  inin  bBJl.bfhoW 

Mode  mybenrtleDp*,  for  when  I  duiih] 
A  Blonder  page  about  her  father'ilill. 
Went  after  bor  with  louguig ;  yel  *i 
Had  never  kiB>,>d  a  klu,  or  TOH'd  i 


Andnf 


one  hod  wedded  ber,  and  he  i 
And  all  hlB  land  and  wealth  and  it 
And  wbilo  I  tarried,  erery  day  (he  Ml 
By  me ;   for  all  ber  IoubIiik  ami  bi 
Wae  toward  me  aa  of  old ;  Ull  ene  ttl 


walk, 

I   calllne   . 

fcniahte, 


tS  me,  and 
heraolf  ai 


Wltb  auppllcati 

■  We  bavo  hMrJ 
ereaien  k 


!nllber»eelllil» 

I  flillow  «1 

J  111  m;  lictK 


dialt  be  aa  Atthur  jn  our 
rolberl  bnt  one  uleht  mf 


ind  wept,  and  bated  mliu 
e  HnlyQaeBl,  uidall  bo 


Then  said  Ibe  monk,   "Poor  nua, 
wben  yute  Is  cold, 
MUBt  bo  eouienc  lo  ait  by  ]ilU»  Urea, 

And  Ibf»  am  I,  so  that  yo ' 

HiciwUlUe  i  yea,  ■uil'bl 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL, 


819 


/ 


That  brought  thee  here  to  thi3  poor 

house  of  ours. 
Where  all  the  brethren  are  so  hard,  to 

warm 
My  cold  heart  with  a  friend :  batO  the 

pity 

To  find  thine  own  first  love  once  more 
—to  hold, 

Hold  her  a  wealthy  bride  within  thine 
arms. 

Or  all  but  hold,  and  then— cast  her 
aside, 

Foregoing  all  her  sweetness,  like  a 
wew. 

For  we  that  want  the  warmth  of  double 
life, 

We  that  are  plagued  with  dreams  of 
something  sweet 

Beyond  all  sweetness  in  a  life  so  rich.— 

Ah,  blessed  Lord,  I  speak  too  earthly- 
wise, 

Seeing  I  never  stray*d  beyond  the  cell, 

But  liYe  like  an  old  badger  in  his  earth. 

With  earth  about  him  everywhere,  de- 
spite 

All  fast  and  penance.  Saw  ye  none 
beside, 

None  of  your  knights?" 

**  Yea  so,"  said  Percivale  : 
**  One  night  my  pathway  swerving  east, 

I  saw 
The  pelican  on  the  casque  of  our  Sir 

Bors 
All  in  the  middle  of  the  rising  moon  : 
And  toward  him  spurr'd  and  hail'd 

him,  and  he  me, 
And  each  made  joy  of  either ;  then  he 

ask*d, 
'Where  is  he?  hasttliou  seen  him— 

Lancelot?*  *Once,* 
Said  good  Sir  Bors,  *  he  dasb'd  across 

me — ^mad, 
And  maddening  what  he  rode :  and 

when  I  cried, 
*'  Ridest  thou  then  so  hotly  on  a  quest 
So  hotly?"  Lancelot  shouted,  *<  Stay 

me  not ! 
I  have  been  the  sluggard,  and  I  ride 

apace, 
For  now  there  is  a  lion  in  Ihe  way." 
Sovanish'd.' 

*•  Then  Sir  Bors  had  ridden  on 
Softly, and  sorrowing  for  our  Lancelot, 
Because  his  former  madness,  once  the 

talk 
And  scandal  of  our  table,  had  re- 

tum*d ; 
For  Lancelot's  kith  and  kin  so  veorship 

him 
That  ill  to  him  is  ill  to  them :  to  Bors 
Beyond  the  rest:  he  well  had  been 

content 
Not  to  have  seen,  so  Lancelot  might 

have  seen. 
The  Holy  Cup  of  healing ;  and,  indeed, 
Being  so  clouded  with  his  grief  and 

love. 
Small  heart  was  his  after  the  Holy 

Qaw(: 


If  God  would  send  the  vision,  well :  if 

not, 
The  Quest  and  he  were  in  the  hands  of 

heaven. 

<'And  then,  with  small  adventure 

met,  Sir  Bors 
Bode  to  the  lonest  tract  of  all  the 

realm, 
And  found  a  people  there  among  their 

crag$. 
Our  race  and  blood,  a  remnant  that 

were  left 
Payiiim  amid  their  circles,  and  the 

stones 
They  pitch  up  straight  to  heaven ;  and 

their  wise  men 
Were  strong  in  that  old  magic  which 

can  trace 
The  wandering  of  the  stars,  and  scoff 'd 

at  him 
At  this  high  Quest  as  at  a  simple 

thing : 
Told  him  he  follow'd— almost  Arthur's 

words — 
A  mocking  fire  :  '  what  other  fire  than 

he. 
Whereby  the  blood  beats,   and  the 

blossom  blows, 
And  the  sea  rolls,  and  all  the  world  is 

warm'd?* 
And  when  his  answer  chafed  them,  the 

rough  crowd. 
Hearing  he  had  a  difference  with  their 

piiests, 
Seized  him,  and  bound  and  plunged 

him  into  a  cell 
Of    great   piled    stones;    and    lying 

bounden  tliere 
In  darkness  thro'  innumerable  hours 
He  heard  the  hollow-ringing  heavens 

sweep 
Over  him,  till  by  miracle— what  else  ?— 
Heavy  as  it  was,  a  great  stone  slipt  and 

fell. 
Such  as  no  wind  could  move:   and 

thro'  the  gap 
Glimmer'd  the  streaming  scud :  then 

came  a  night 
Still  as  the  day  was  loud  ;  and  thro' 

the  gap 
The  seven  clear  stars  of  Arthur's  Table 

Round— 
For,  brother,  so  one  night,  because 

they  roll 
Thro'  such  around  in  heaven,  we  named 

the  stars. 
Rejoicing  iji  ourselves  and  in  our  king— 
And  these,  like  bright  eyes  of  familiar 

friends, 
In  on  him  shone,  <  And  then  to  me,  to 

me.' 
Said  good  Sir  Bors,  *  beyond  all  hopes 

of  mine, 
Who  scarce  had  pray'd  or  ask'd  it  for 

myself— 
Across  the  seven  clear  stars— O  grace 

tome — 
In  color  like  the  fingers  of  a  liand 
Before  abuxxkixig\&iV^x»Oskftv««fiX^Td&\ 


N 
b 

y 


k  tliDiKler. 

LolyfaltU; 
DiiUiiug,  looaea  AUiTlet  liii 


THK  UULY  GRAIL. 

ng   tilt 
kliigs 


To  whom  the  monk  ;  "  And 


Wlio  ipoks 
Andmlelitj'rf 


d  utdl)'  Bt  out 
■  oat  grace  wb» 


An  out,l<«r  ilen  ot  all  t 

-nitliln. 
Smiled  with  Lis  lips— a  rsu 


Ay,  ST.  Sir  Bon,  wbo  i 

(>e  narh'd 
ly,  loundyo  all 


B  >ootl>  In  Arthur's  ] 


"iS"' 


But  sit  nilbin  tbo  Louse. 

loarli'd 
TUB  city,  our  boraes  Btnn 

OnheupBOf  rnln. 


Who,  wbi 
SHyiHg,'"' 


On  bill,  c 
Bo  OeTue 


llBks,  ondeplinterd  cDi:k- 
tlec'd  taltMts,  nblch  Imd  left 

3t  thtvy  fell  Itom,  brought  ub  tu 

Bhali: 

there  sat  ATtbuc  on  tha  dsTa- 

■e  UiaC  bad  £udo  out  Dpon  the 

*e  ihat  bad  not,  tiooS  beforo 

B  King. 

lien  be  uv  me,  mae,  and  bade 

some  dliutioui  otauce  foi 
'  plAln,  at  Hea,  or  fioodirL^ 
.  gala  uailo  bbiiK  h«ia  at 


ilcvtiMw  ot  our 

itrongcc  ball  at 

Andfrom'lho  >taWe  Morlln  mooUrt 

tor  la 
Uair-wronch'dagoldenBins;  bntnm 

Thla  Tlalon 

n«'pL 
nry?' 

"  So  whan  I  lold  him  all  IhneU  butt 

Ambroslu«,'B"d  my  freah  lint  (Lit  » 

To  piBB  away  into  Ibe  noleC  life, 
lleanBwer'd  not,  but,  Uutrply  iiinilii[, 


'  Bald  Gavnln,  'ni 
mmuncd  with  a  tainllf 


Buttound  n  silk  juiTlllon  in  a  Held, 

Tors  my  pavilion  from  thalenlfng-plB, 
with  ail  dlBcomEort ;  yea,  ujid  but  lot 
My  twalvemonth  HndadBiy<tet«plH>- 

"  He  i!eaied  ;  nnd  Arthur  tnrn'd  W 
whom  at  Hnt 

""  "poBh'd"'"'  ^'"^  ^'"*'  °"  ""^"^ 
Athwart  the  throna  to  Lancelot,  ctgcbt 

hie  hand. 
Held  It,  and  there,  half-bidden  by  bin. 

Until  Ibe  king  espied  him,  saying  M 

'  Hall,  Bon  !  U  over  loyal  man  and 

Could  see  It.  thouhast  soon  the  Ciall.' 


•'  Then  there  remsln'd  but  Lancelot, 
for  Ibe  rSBt 
Spake  but  at  sundry    petlli   li 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL. 


21 


** '  Oar  mishtlest^ '  answer*d  Lance- 
lot, with  a  gix>an ; 
O  King !  '—and  when  he  paiued,  me- 

thought  I  spied 
K  dying  lire  ot  madness  in  his  eyes — 
*0  King*  my  friend,  if  friend  of  thine 

Happier  are  tliose  that  welter  in  tlieir 

sin, 
Swine  in  the  road,  that  cannot  see  for 

slime. 
Slime  of  the  ditch :  but  in  me  lived  a 

sin 
So  sti'ange,  of  such  a  kind,  that  all  of 

pure. 
Noble,  and  knightly  in  me  twined  and 

clung 
Round  that  one  sin,  until  the  whole- 
some flower 
And  poisonous  grew  together,  each  as 

each. 
Not  to  be  pluck 'd  asunder ;  and  when 

tliy  knights 
Sware,  I  sware  with  them  only  in  the 

hope 
That  could  I  touch  or  see  th6  Holy 

Grail 
They  might  be  pluck'd  asunder.    Then 

I  spake 
To  one  most  holy  saint,  who  wept  and 

said. 
That  save  tliey  could  be  pluck' d  asun- 
der, all 
My  quest  were  but  In  vain ;  to  whom  I 

vow'd 
That  I  would  work  according  as  he 

wiird. 
And  forth  I  went,  and  while  I  yeam'd 

and  strove 
To  tear  the  twain  asunder  in  my  heart, 
My  madness  came  upon  me  as  of  old. 
And  whipt  me  into  waste  fields  far 

away; 
There  was  1  beaten  down  by  little  men. 
M^fui  knights,  to  whom  the .  moving  of 

my  sword 
And  shadow  of  my  spear  had  been  enow 
To  scare  them  from  me  once ;  and  then 

I  came 
All  in  my  folly  to  the  naked  shore, 
Wide  flats,  where  nothing  but  coarse 

grasses  crew ; 
But  such  a  blast,  my  King,  began  to 

blow. 
So  loud  a  blast  along  the  shore  and 

sea. 
Ye  could  not  hear  the  waters  for  the 

blast, 
Tho'  heapt  in  mounds  and  ridges  all 

the  sea 
Drove  like  a  cataract,  and  all  the  sand 
Swept  like  a  river,  and  the  clouded 

heavens 
Were  shaken  with  the  motion  and  the 

sound. 
And  blackening  in  the  sea-foam  sway*d 

a  boat, 
Half-Bwallow'd  iu  it,  anchored  with  a 

chain; 
And  in  my  madness  to  myself  I  said 


"I  will  embark  and  I  will  lose  myeell 
And  in  the  great  sea  wash  away  my  sin. 
I  burst  the  chain,  I  sprang  into  th 

boat. 
Seven  days  I  drove  along  the  dreary 

deep. 
And  with  me  drove  the  moon  and  all 

the  stars ; 
And  the  wind  fell,  and  on  the  seventh 

night 
I  heard  the  shingle  grinding  in  the 

surge. 
And  felt  the  boat  shock  earth,  and 

looking  up. 
Behold,  the  enciianted  towers  of  Car- 

bonek, 
A  castle  like  a  rock  upon  a  rock, 
With  chasm-like  portals  oi>en  to  the 

sea, 
And  steps  that  met  the  breaker !  there 

was  none 
Stood  near  it  but  a  lion  on  each  side 
That  kept  the  entr\',  and  the  moon  was 

full. 
Then  from  the  boat  I  leapt,  and  up  the 

stairs. 
There  drew  my  sword.    With  sudden^ 

flaring  manes 
Those  two  great  beasts  rose  upright 

like  a  man. 
Each  gript  a  shoulder,  and  I  stood  be- 
tween ; 
And,  when  I  would  have  smitten  them, 

heard  a  voice, 
<< Doubt   not,    go    forward;    if    thou 

doubt,  the  beasts 
Will  tear  thee  piecemeal."    Then  with 

violence 
The  sword  was  dash*d  from  out  my 

hand,  and  fell. 
And  up  into  the  sounding  hall  I  past ; 
But  nothing  in  the  sounmns  hall  I  saw 
No  bench  nor  table,  painting  on  the 

wall 
Or  shield  of  knight ;  only  the  rounded 

moon 
Thro*  the  tall  oriel  on  the  rolling  sea. 
But  always  in  the  quiet  house  I  heard, 
Clear  as  a  lark,  high  o'er  me  as  a  lark, 
A  sweet  voice  singing  in  the  topmost 

tower 
To  the  eastward  :  up  I  climb*d  a  thou- 
sand steps 
With  pain  :  as  in  dream  I  seem'd  to 

climb 
For  ever  :  at  the  last  I  reach'd  a  door, 
A  light  was  in  the  cramiies,  and  I 

heard, 
"  Glory  and  joy  and  honor  to  our  Ix)rd 
And  to  the  Holy  Vessel  of  the  Grail." 
Then  in  my  madness  I  essayed  the 

door: 
It  gave  ;  and  thro*  a  stormy  glare*  a 

heat 
As  from  a  seventimes-heated  furnace, 

I. 
Blasted  and  burnt,  and  blinded  as  I 

was. 
With  such  a  fierceness  that  I  swoon*d 
away— 


t 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 


326 


HU   lady  loved  him,  and  lie   knew 

himself 
Loved  of  the  King :  and  him  his  new- 
made  knight 
Worehipt,    whose    lightest    whisper 

moved  him  more 
Than  all  the  ranged  reasons  of  the 

world. 

Then  hlu8h*d  and  brake  the  morning 

of  the  Jousts, 
And  this  was  call'd  **  The  Tournament 

of  Youth:" 
For  Arthur,  loving  his  young  knight, 

withheld 
His  older  and  his  mightier  from  the 

lists, 
That  Pelleas  might  obtain  his  lady's 

love. 
According  to  her  promise,  and  remain 
Lord  of   the   tourney.    And  Arthur 

had  the  jousts 
I>own  in  the  flat  Held  by  the  shore  of 

Usk 
Holden:    the    gilded    parapets   were 

crown'd 
With  faces,  and  the  great  tower  filVd 

with  eyes 
Up  to  the  summit,  and  the  trumpets 

blew. 
There  all  day  long  Sir  Pelleas  kept  the 

fleld 
With  honor:  so  by  that  strong  hand 

of  his 
The   sword  and  golden   circlet  were 

achieved. 

Then  rang  tho  shout  his  lady  loved : 

the  heat 
Of  pride  and  glory  fired  her  face  ;  her 

eye 
Sparkled ;  she  caught  the  circlet  from 

his  lance. 
And  there  before  the  people  crown'd 

herself. 
So  for  the  last  time  she  was  gracious 

to  him. 

Then  at  Caerleon  for  a  space— her 

look 
Bright  for  all  others,  cloudier  on  her 

kniffht— 
Lingered  Ettarre  :  and  seeing  Pelleas 

droop. 
Said  Guinevere,  *^  We  marvel  at  thee 

much, 
O  dnmsel,  wearing  this  unsunny  face 
To  him  who  won  thee  glory !  **  And 

she  said, 
<<Had  ye  not  held  your  Lancelot  in 

your  bower. 
My  Queen,  he  had  not  won.*'  Whereat 

the  Queen, 
Af  one  whose  foot  is  bitten  by  an  ant, 
Glanced  down  upon  her,  tuni'd  and 

went  her  way. 

But  after,  when  her  damsels,  and 
herself. 
And  thoM  three  knights  all  set  their 
faces  home, 


/ 


Sir   Pelleas  foUow'd.    She   tliat  saw 

him  cried, 
"  Damsels— and  yet  I  should  be  shamed 

to  say  it — 
I  cannot  bide  Sir  Baby.    Keep  him 

back 
Among  yourselves.  Would  rather  that 

we  had 
Some  rough  old  knight  who  knew  the 

worldlv  way, 
Albeit  grizzlier  than  a  bear,  to  ride 
And  jest  with :  take  him  to  you,  keep 

him  off, 
And  pamper  him  with  papmeat»  if  ye 

will, 
Old  milky  fables  of  the  wolf  and  sheep. 
Such  as  the  wholesome  mothers  tell 

their  boys. 
Nay  should  ye  try  him  with  a  merry 

one 
To  find  his  mettle,  good :  and  if  he  fly 

us. 
Small  matter!  let    him."    This   her 

damsels  heard. 
And  mindful  of  her  small  and  cruel 

hand. 
They,   closing  round  him   thro*  the 

journey  homo. 
Acted  her  hest,  and  always  from  her 

side 
Bestraiu'd  him  with  all   manner  of 

device. 
So  that  he  could  not  come  to  speech 

with  her. 
And  when  she  «iin'd  her  castle,  up- 

sprang  the  oridge. 
Down  rang  the  giate  of  iron  thro'  the 

groove. 
And  he  was  left  alone  in  open  field. 

"These  be  the  ways  of  ladies,"  Pel- 
leas thought, 

*'To  those  who  love  them,  trials  of 
our  faith. 

Yea,  let  her  prove  me  to  the  utter- 
most. 

For  loyal  to  the  uttermost  am  I." 

So  made  his  moan  ',  and,  darkness  fall- 
ing, soueht 

A  priory  not  ib.x  off,  there  lodged,  but 
rose 

With  morning  every  day,  and,  moist 
or  dry, 

FuU-arm'd  upon  his  charger  all  day 
long 

Sat  by  the  walls,  and  no  one  opeu'd  to 
him. 

And  this  persistence  tum'd  her  scorn 

to  wrath. 
Then  calling  her  three  knights,  she 

chareed  them,  "Out I 
And  drive  nim  from  the  walls."    And 

out  they  came, 
But  Pelleas  overthrew  them  as  they 

dash'd 
Against  him  one  by  one ;  and  these 

return'd, 
Bnt  still  he  kept  his  watch  btneath 

the  wall. 


n* 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 


827 


Ana  Pelleas  answer'd,  **  Lady,  for  in- 
deed 

I  loved  yoa  and  I  deem*d  you  beauti- 
ful, 

I  cannot 'brook  to  see  your  beauty 
marr'd 

Thro*  evil  spite :  and  if  ye  love  me  not, 

I  cannot  bear  to  dream  you  so  for- 
sworn : 

I  had  liefer  ye  were  worthy  of  my  love, 

Than  to  be  loved  again  of  you— faie- 
well ; 

And  tho*  ye  kill  my  hope,  not  yet  my 
love. 

Vex  not  yourself :  ye  will  not  see  me 


>* 


\ 


more. 

While  thus  he  spake,  she  gazed  upon 

the  man 
Of  princely  bearing,  tho*  in  bonds,  and 

thought, 
«*  Why  have  I  push*d  him  from  me  ? 

this  man  loves, 
If  love  there  be  :  yet  him  I  loved  not. 

Why? 
I  deem'd  him  fool  ?  yea,  so  ?  or  that  in 

him 
A  something— was  it  nobler  than  my- 
self?— 
Seem*d  my  reproach  ?  He  is  not  of  my 

kind. 
He  could  not  love  me,  did  he  know  me 

well. 
Kay,  let  him  go— and  quickly."    And 

her  knights 
Laugh*d  not.  but  thrust  him  bounden 

out  of  door. 

Forth  sprang  Gawain,  and   loosed 

him  from  his  bonds, 
And  flung  them  o'er  the  walls ;  and 

afterward. 
Shaking  his  hands,  as  from  a  lazar's 

rag, 
<* Faith  of  my  body,"  he  said,  "and art 

thou  not  — 
Yea  thou  art  he,  whom  late  our  Ar- 
thur made 
Knight  of  his  table ;  yea  and  he  that 

won 
The  circlet?  wherefore  hast  thou  so 

defamed 
Thy  brotherhood  in  me  and  all  the 

rest, 
As  let  these  caitiffs  on  thee  work  their 

will?" 

And  Pelleas  answer'd,  «0,  their 
wills  are  hei*s 

For  whom  I  won  the  circlet;  and 
mine,  hers, 

Tlius  to  be  bounden.  so  to  see  her  face, 

Marr'd  tho'  it  be  with  spite  and  mock- 
ery now. 

Other  than  when  I  found  her  in  the 
woods; 

And  tho'  she  hath  me  bounden  but  in 
spite. 

And  all  to  flout  me,  when  they  bring 
me,  in, 


Let  me  be  bounden,  I  shall  see  hel 

face ; 
Else  must  I  die  thro*  mine  unhappi- 

ness.'* 

And  Gawain  answer'd  kindly  tho'  in 

scorn, 
*•  Why,  let  my  lady  bind  me  if  she  will, 
And  let  my  lady  beat  me  if  she  will : 
But  an  she  send  her  delegat-e  to  thrall 
These  tiKhting  hands  of  mine— Christ 

kiU  me  then 
But  I  will  slice  him  handless  by  the 

wrist, 
And  let  my  lady  sear  the  stnmp  for 

him, 
Howl  as  he  may.    But  hold  me  for 

your  friend : 
Come,  ye  know  nothing :  here  I  pledge 

my  troth. 
Yea,  by  the  honor  of  the  Table  Round, 
I  will  be  leal  to  thee  and  work  thy 

work. 
And  tame  thy  jailing  princess  to  thine 

hand. 
Lend  me  thine  horse  and  arms,  and  I 

will  say 
That  I  have  slain  thee.     She  will  let 

me  in 
To  hear  the  manner  of  thy  fight  and 

fall  ; 
Then,  when  I  come  within  her  coun- 
sels, then 
From  prime  to  vespers  will  I  chant  thy 

praise 
As  prowest  knight  and  truest  lover, 

more 
Than  any  have  sung  the  living,  till  she 

lone 
To  have  tliee  back  in  lusty  life  again» 
Not  to  be  bound,  save  by  white  bonds 

and  warm, 
Dearer  than  freedom.  Wherefore  now 

thy  hcrse 
And  armor :  let  me  go  :  be  comforted: 
Give  me  three  days  to  melt  her  fancy, 

and  hope 
The  third  night  hence  will  bring  thee 

news  of  gold." 

The  Pelleas  lent  his  horse  and  all  his 

arms. 
Saving  the  goodly  sword,  his  prize,  and 

took 
Gawain's,  and  said,  <<  Betray  me  not 

but  help  — 
Art  thou  not  he  whom  men  call  light- 

of-love?" 

*«  Ay,"  said  Gawain,  "  for  women  bo 

so  light." 
Then  bounded  forward  to  the  castle 

walls, 
And  raised  a  bugle  hanging  from  his 

neck. 
And  winded  it,  and  that  so  musically 
That  all  the  old  echoes  hidden  in  the 

wall 
Bang  out  like  hollow  woods  at  hon^ 

ing-tide. 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 


829 


Stared  at  bar  towers  that,  larger  than 

themselves 
In  their  own  darkness,  throng*d  into 

the  moon. 
Tlien  crushed  the    saddle    with    his 

thighs,  and  clencli*d 
His  hanc&,  and  madden'd  with  himself 

and  moau'd : 

"  Would  they  have  risen  against  me 

in  their  blood 
At  the  last  day?   I  might  have  au> 

Ewer'd  them 
Even  before  high  God.    O  towers  so 

strong, 
Huge,  solid,  would  that  even  while  I 

gaze 
The  crack  of  earthquake  shivering  to 

your  base 
Split  vou,   and  Hell  burst  up  your 

harlot  roofs 
Bellowing,  and  charr'd  you  thro*  and 

thro'  within, 
Black  as  the  harlot's  heart—hollow  as 

a  skull ! 
Let  the  fierce  east  scream  thro*  your 

eyelet-holes, 
And  whirl  the  dust  of  harlots  round 

and  round 
In  dung  and  nettles!  hiss,  snake — I 

saw  him  there  — 
Let  the  fox  bark,  let  the  wolf  yell. 

Who  yells 
Here  in  the  still  sweet  summer  night, 

buti— 
I,  the  poor  Pelleas  whom  she  call*d  her 

fool? 
Fool,  beast— he,  she,   or  I?  myself 

most  fool ; 
Beast  too,  as  lacking  human  wit— dis- 
graced, 
Dishonor'd  all  for  trial  of  true  love- 
Love? —  we  be   all  alike:    only  the 

kine 
Hath  made  us  fools  and  liars.    O  noble 

vows ! 

0  great  and  sane  and  simple  race  of 

brutes 
That  own  no  lust  because  they  have  no 

law! 
For  why  should  I  have  loved  her  to 

my  shame? 

1  loathe  her,  as  I  loved  her  to  my 

shame. 
I  never  loved  her,  I  but  lusted  for  her 
— Away —  ** 

He  dash'd  the  rowel  into  his  horse. 
And  bounded  forth  and  vani^h'd  tluo^ 
the  night. 

Then  she.  that  felt  the  cold  touch  on 

her  throat. 
Awaking  knew  the  sword,  and  tum'd 

herself 
To  Gawain  :  **  Liar,  for  thou  hast  not 

slain 
Tliis  Pelleas  !  here  he  stood  and  might 

have  slain 
Me  and  thyself."    And  he  that  tells 

thetal« 


Says  that  her  ever-veering  fancy  tnm*d 
To  Pelleas,  as  the  one  true  knight  on 

earth, 
And  only  lover ;  and  thro*  her  love  her 

life 
Wasted  and  pined,  desiring  him  in 

vain. 

But  he  by  wild  and  way,  for  half  the 

night. 
And  over  hard  and  soft,  striking  tlie 

sod 
From  out  the  soft,  the  spark  from  off 

the  hurU, 
Bode  till  the  star  above  the  wakening 

sun, 
Beside  that  tower  where  Percivale  was 

cowl'd, 
Glanced  from  the  rosy  forehead  of  the 

dawn.  , 
For  so  the  words  were  ilash'd  into  his 

heart 
He  knew  not  whence  or  wherefore : 

**  O  sweet  star. 
Pure  on  the  virgin  forehead  of  the 

dawn.'* 
And  there  he  would  have  wept,  but 

felt  his  ejes 
Harder  and  drier  than  a  fountain  bed 
In  summer :  thither  came  the  village 

girls 
And  linger'd  talking,  and  they  come 

no  more 
Till  the  sweet  heavens  have  fill'dit 

from  the  heights 
Again  with  living  waters  in  the  change 
of  seasons :  hara  his  eyes ;  harder  lus 

heart 
Seem'd ;  but  so  weary  were  his  limbs, 

that  he. 
Gasping,  **  Of  Arthur's  hall  am  I,  but 

here. 
Here  let  me  rest  and  die,**  cast  himself 

down, 
And  gulpli'd  his  griefs  in  inmost  sleep ; 

so  lay. 
Till  shaken  by  a  dream,  that  Gawain 

fired 
The  hall  of  Merlin,  and  the  morning 

star 
ReePd  in  the  smoke,  brake  into  flame, 

and  fell. 

He  woke,  and  being  ware  of  some 
one  nigh. 

Sent  hands  upon  him,  as  to  tear  him, 
crying 

*'  False !  and  I  held  thee  pure  as  Guin- 
evere.** 

But  Percivale  stood  near  him  and 

replied, 
"  Am  I  but  false  as  Guinevere  is  pure  7 
Or  art  thou  mazed  with  dreams?  or 

being  one 
Of  our  free-spoken  Table  hast  not 

heard 
That    Lancelot*'— there  he   check*d 

himself  and  paused. 

Then  fared  it  with  Sir  Pelleas  aa 
with  ou« 


T 


PELLEAS  AND  ETTARRE. 


Wbo  Estn  n  vannd  in  battle,  and  the 

Tliac  made  !t  plnngei  ttuo'  tha  wo- 

And  pnukfl  tt  deeper :  and  he  ahf 
and  wallM. 


r  Round  Table  held 


Ind  Ilka  a  p^iono 
tnd  blue  the  crimaoE  Laneslot and 
'  rimn»ernie/'BaldUuicelol,  "IhaU 
'Fight  Oier 


A  criyple,  ou'e  ih 

"  '"''^ 

rtaer.  who  called  out  frot 

aou  art  false  an  Tlell:  s. 

aUhjUpi 

11 1  dlWdce  It  by  thy  de*tt-" 
,■'  hDahliek'd,  "my  will h 

And  iinoelor,  with  his  heel  open  IhB 

liolling  hl»'eyB«,  a  moment  iitwd.  Iben 

"  Rlie,  weakling  ;  I  am  Lancelot ;  nj 
thy  Bay." 

And  Lancelot  ■] 

hone  back 

To  Camalot.  and  i 


ITh«&;»o, 
world, 
Uarkan'dtbeFDoi 
the  reinB. 
.  made  fala  b 


>np»th;botnitoh'd 
iie  hall  itiB(  Merlin 


And  fotloH 
BjBkBin 

GuiiVe^ 


vly  rode  hl>  w: 


en  llmba  bom  till 
a  city.    Ilchdiiud 


Blackening    asalmt 

"  Blnclc  neat  ol  ratn,"  ha  gtoaa'd,  "  je 
build  ■—  '■'-'■  ■■ 


Full  wonderiagly  ebe  eB»d  en  tAii 

So  eoon  retum'd,  and  Ihcn  en  Felli 

him 
^ho  hail  uoC  greeted  her.  bat  cast  b 

snlf 


D    a    bench,  bard-breaf 
'U    lit    Luicelot.     "Ay,  m; 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT, 


831 


And  each  foresaw  the  dolonnu  day' to  f  "  Take  thou  the  jewels  of  this  dead 

innocence. 
And  make  them,  an  thou  wilt,  a  tour- 
ney prize." 


he  * 
And  all  talk  died,  as  in  a  groye  all  sons 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  some  bird  oi 

prey. 
Then  a  long  silence  came  upon  the  hall, 
And  Modred  thought,  <<The  time  is 

hard  at  hand* 


THE  LAST  TOURNAPIENT. 

Bagoxet,  the  fool,  whom  Gawain  in 

his  moods 
Had  made  mock-knight  of  Arthur's  Ta- 
ble Round, 
At  Camelot.  high  above  the  yellowing 

woods, 
Danced  like  a  wither*d  leaf  before  the 

Hall. 
And  toward  him  from  the  Hall,  with 

harp  in  hand, 
And  from  the  crown  thereof  a  carca- 

net 
Of  ruby  swaying  to  and  fro,  the  prize 
Of  Tristram  in  the  jousts  ofyesterday. 
Came  Tristram,  saying,  **  Why  skip  ye 

BO,  Sir  Fool?" 

For  Arthur  and  Sir  Lancelot  riding 

once 
Far  down  beneath  a  winding  wall  of 

rock 
Heard  a  child  wail.    A  stump  of  oak 

half -dead. 
From  roots  like  some  black  coil  of 

carven  snakes 
Clutched  at  the  ci-ag,  and  started  thro* 

mid-air 
Bearing  an  eagle's  nest :  and  thro'  the 

tree 
Bush'd  ever  a  rainy  wind,  and  thro*  the 

wind 
Pierced  ever  a  child's  cry :  and  crag 

^nd  tree 
Scaling,  Sir  Lancelot  from  the  peril- 
ous nest, 
This  ruby  necklace  thrice  ai'ound  her 

neck. 
And  all  uuscarr'd  from  beak  or  talon, 

brought 
A  maiden  oabe;  which  Arthur  pity- 

ingtook. 
Then  ^ve  it  to  his  Queen  to  rear ;  the 

Queen 
But  coldly  acquiescing,  in  her  white 

arms 
Beceived,  and  after  loved  it  tenderly. 
And  named  it  Nestling ;  so  forgot  her- 
self 
A  moment,  and  her  cares;  till  that 

young  life 
Being  smitten  in    mid-heaven   with 

mortal  cold 
Past  from  her ;  and  in  time  the  carca- 

net 
Vest  her  with  plaintive  memories  of 

the  child : 
80  she,  delivering  It  to  Arthur,  said. 


To  whom    the    King,    "Peace    to 

thine  eagle-bonie 
Dead  nestling,  and  this  honor  after 

death, 
Following  thy  will !  but,  O  my  Queen, 

I  muse 
Why  ye  not  wear  on  arm,  or  neck,  or 

zone. 
Those  diamonds  that  I  rescued  from 

the  tarn, 
And  Lancelot  won,  methought,for  thee 

to  wear." 


**  Would  rather  ye 


had  let  them 


fall,"  she  crietf, 
<'  Plunge  and  be  lost  —  ill-fated  as  they 

were, 
A  bitterness  to  me  ! — ye  look  amazed. 
Not  knowing  they  were  lost  as  soon  as 

given  — 
Slid  from  my  hands,  when  I  was  lean- 
ing out 
Above  the  river — that  unhappy  child 
Past  in  her  barge  :  but  rosier  luck  will 

go 
With  these  rich  jewels,  seeing  that 

they  came 
Not  from  the  skeleton  of  a  brother* 

slayer. 
But  the  sweet  body  of  a  maiden  babe. 
Peichance  —  who  knows  ?  —  the  purest 

of  thy  knights 
May  win  them  for  the  purest  of  my 

maids." 

She  ended,  and  the  cry  of  a  great 

jousts 
With  trumpet-blowings  ran  on  all  the 

ways 
From  Camelot  in  among  the  faded 

flelds 
To  furthest  towers;  and  everywhere 

the  knights 
Arm*d  for  a  day  of  glory  before  the 

King. 

But  on  the  hither  side  of  that  loud 
morn 

Into  the   hall    stagger'd,  his    visage 
ribb'd 

From  ear  to  ear  with  dogwhip»weals« 
his  nose 

Bridge-broken,  one  eye  out,  and  one 
hand  off. 

And  one  with  shatter'd  fingers  dang- 
ling lame, 

A  churl,   to    whom  indignantly   the 
King, 
«My  churl,  for  whom  Christ  died, 
what  evil  beast 

Hath  drawn  his  claws  athwart  thy 
face  ?  or  fiend  ? 

Man  was  it  who  marr'd  Heaven's  im- 
age in  tlieethus?" 


\ 


Than,  KpiitMii 
y«t  «tr»nget«  H 
PIlch-blndkH."." 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT. 


8  lleilgo  of 


>iiil  lie 


0   tllGE 


iciiiaiit  o( 


'itefl  Kiilgiit" 


raying  — 


Some  liolil  lie  wui  : 

gDodly    onei  — lliB    Ked 

DruJie  ill  upoirme  luid  drayo  tliBm  U) 
And  wlHtii  1  called  upon  Uiyiiame  as 
That   doest  right  by  geollo   and  by 

Malni'il   nui  and  manl'd.  and  would 
oulriRlit  have  alaln, 

meeaage, 
lliQ  King  and  all  UIei  liars, 

Have  fuundod  my  Itound  Table  in  tba 

North, 
And  whatHjBTer  hiBownknlgUtshaTo 

My  knIghiB  hsvo  Ewom  the  counter  lo 

it  — and  MY 
My  tower  la  full  ot  bacloto.llka  his 

tourt. 
BuC  mine  are  irorUiin.  aeeing  tboy 

To  be  none  other  ttasn  tlionuelroa  — 


To  be  nono  otbei ;  and  aay  Ub  bo 
Tlia  beatlien  are  upon  blm,  his 


Broken,  and  Ma  1 


'Take  ■ 


Bi:hal, 


1  hiir 


Uke  a  king's  'heir,  till  all  his  buiti  be 

wbole. 
Tlie  heathen — but  that  OTer-cllmbtng 

Hurl'd  back  ngoiit  no  often  In  empty 

Hath  lain  for  yonrs  at  roBl  —  and  rena- 

TMevBB,bandft<,leaTlugB  of  confusion, 

TLe  wholenome  realm  la    poised  of 

FriendBT  thro*  your  manbood  and  jour 

fealty.—  .low 
Uakelhclrlait  head  like  Satan  In  the 

SorUi. 
My  younger  knlRhts,  new-made,  In 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT. 


888 


By  these  in  earnest,  those  in  mockerv, 
caira 

The  Touniament  of  the  Dead  Inno- 
cence, 

Brake  with  a  wet  wind  blowing,  Lance- 
lot, 

Round  whose  sick  head  all  night,  like 
birds  of  prey, 

The  words  of  Artnur  flying  shriek'd, 
arose, 

And  down  a  streetway  hung  with  folds 
of  pure 

White  samite,  and  by  fountains  run- 
ning wine. 

Where  cmldreu  sat  in  white  with  cups 
of  gold, 

MoTsd  to  the  lists,  and  there,  with 
slow  sad  steps 

Ascending,  flU'd  his  double<Lragon*d 
chair. 

Be  fflanced  and  saw  the  stately  gal- 
leries. 

Dame,  damsel,  each  thro*  worship  of 
their  Queen 

White-robed  in  honor  of  the  stainless 
child. 

And  some  with  scatter*d  jewels,  like  a 
bank 

Of  maiden  snow  mingled  witli  sparks 
of  fire. 

Ue  lookt  but  once,  and  veird  his  eyes 
again. 

The  sudden  trumpet  sounded  as  in  a 
dream 

To  eus  but  half-awaked,  then  one  low 
roll 

Of  Autumn  thunder,  and  the  jousts 
began : 

And  ever  the  wind  blew,  and  yellow- 
ing leaf 

And  gloom  and  gleam,  and  shower  and 
shorn  plume 

Went  down  it.  Sighing  weariedly,  as 
one 

Who  sits  and  gazes  on  a  faded  fire, 

When  all  the  goodlier  guests  are  past 
away, 

Sat  their  creat  umpire,  looking  o'er 
the  lists. 

He  saw  the  laws  that  ruled  the  tourna- 
ment 

Broken,  but  spake  not ;  once,  a  knight 
cast  down 

Before  his  throne  of  arbitration  cursed 

The  dead  babe  and  the  follies  of  the 
King; 

And  once  the  laees  of  a  helmet  crack*d. 

And  show'd  him,  like  a  vermin  in  its 
hole, 

Modred,  a  narrow  face :  anon  he  heard 

Th»  voice  that  billow*d  round  the  bar- 
riers roar 

An  ocean -sounding  welcome  to  one 
knight. 

But  newly-enter'd,  taller  than  the  rest. 

And  armor'd  all  in  forest  green, 
whereon 

There  tript  a  hundred  tiny  silver  deer. 


And  wearing  but  a  holly-spray  for 

crest, 
With  ever-scattering  berries,  and  on 

shield 
A  spear,  a  harp,  a  bugle— Tristram— > 

late 
From  overseas  in  Brittany  retum'd. 
And  marriage  with  a  princess  of  that 

realm, 
Isolt  the  White— Sir  Tristram  of  the 

Woods— 
Whom  Lancelot  knew,  had  held  some- 
time with  pain 
His  own  against  liim,  and  now  yeam*d 

to  slmke 
The  burthen  off  his  heart  in  one  full 

shock 
With   Tristram   ev'n  to  death:    his 

stronc  handH  gript 
And  dintedthe  gilt  dragons  right  and 

left, 
Until  he  groan'd  for  wrath— so  many 

of  tho8e, 
That  ware  their  ladies*  colors  on  the 

casque. 
Drew  from  before  Sir  Tristram  to  the 

bounds, 
And  there  with  gibes  and  flickering 

mockeries 
Stoodt  while  he  mutter*d,  **  Craven 

crests  !    U  shame  ! 
What  faith  have  these  in  whom  they 

sware  to  love  ? 
The  glory  of  our  Round  Table  is  no 


•, 


more. 

So  Tristram  won,  and  Lancelot  gave, 

the  gems, 
Not  speaking  other  word  than  **  Hast 

thou  won  ? 
Art  thou  the  purest, brother?  See,  the 

hand 
Wherewith  thou  takest  this  is  red !  *' 

to  whom 
Tristram,  half  plagued  by  Lancelot's 

languorous  inoo<l. 
Made  answer,  '*Ay,  but  wherefore  toss 

me  this 
Like  a  dry  bone  cast  to  some  hungry 

hound  ? 
Let    be    thy  fair    Queen*s  fantasy. 

Strength  of  heart 
And  might  of  limb,  but  mainly  use  and 

skill. 
Are  winners  in  this  pastime  of  our 

King. 
My  hand— belike  the  lance  hath  dript 

upon  it- 
No  blood  of  mine,  I  trow ;  but  O  chief 

knight. 
Right  arm  of  Arthur  in  the  battle- 
field. 
Great  brother,  thou  nor  I  have  made 

the  world : 
Be  happy  in  thy  fair  Queen  as  I  in 

mine." 

And  Tiistram   round  the  gallery 
made  his  horse 
Caracole  ;    then  bow'd  hit  homa<*c>. 
bltuitly  saying, 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT. 


884 


New  loves  are  sweet  as  those  that  went 

before  : 
Free  love— free    field— we    love  but 

while  we  may.* 

*•  Ye  might  have  moved  slow-meas- 
ure to  my  tuiie, 

Not  stood  Btockslill.  I  made  it  in  the 
woods 

And  found  'it  ring  as  tree  as  tested 
gold," 

But  Dasonet  with  one  foot  poised  in 

his  hand, 
"Friend,  did  ye  mark  that  fountain 

vesterd&v 
Made  to  run  wine?— but  this  had  run 

itself 
All  out  like  a  long  life  to  a  sour  end— 
And  them  that  round  it  Bat  with  golden 

cups 
To  hand  the  wine  to    whomsoever 

came— 
The  twelve  small  damosels  white  as 

Innocence, 
In  honor  of  poor  Innocence  the  babe, 
Who  left  the  gems  which  Innocence 

the  Queen 
Lent  to  the  King,  and  Innocence  the 

King 
Gave  for  a  prize— and  one  of  those 

white  slips 
Handed  her  cup  and  piped,  the  pretty 

one. 

*  Drink,  drink.  Sir  Fool,*  and  there- 

upon I  drank. 
Spat— pish— the    cup    was   gold,   the 
draught  was  mud.'* 

And  Tristram,   ''Was  it  muddier 

tlian  thy  gibes  ? 
Is  all  the  laughter  gone  dead  out  of 

thee?— 
Not  marking  how  the  knighthood  mock 

thee,  fool— 

*  Fear  God  ;  honor  the  king— his  one 

true  knight- 
Sole  follower  of  the  vows*— for  here 

be  they 
Who  knew  thee  swine  enow  before 

I  came. 
Smuttier  than  blasted  grain :  but  when 

the  King 
Had  made  thee  fool,  thy  vanity  so  shot 

up 
It  frighted  all  free  fool  from  out  thy 

lieart ; 
Which  left  thee  less  than  fool,  and 

less  than  swine, 
A  naked  aught— yet  swine  I  hold  thee 

still. 
For  I  have  filing  thee  pearls,  and  find 

thee  swine." 

And  little  Dagonet  mincing  with  his 
feet, 
<*  Knight,  an  ye   fiing  those  rubies 
round  my  neck 


Of  music,  since  I  caro  not  for  th} 

]>earls. 
Swine  ?  I  have  wallow'd,  I  have  washM 

—the  world 
Is  flesh  and  shadow— I  have  had  my 

day. 
The  dirty  nurse,  Experience,  in  her 

kind 
Hath  fouPd  me— an  I  wallow'd,  then  I 

wash'd— 
I  have  had  my  day  and  my  philoso- 
phies— 
And    thank    the  Lord    I  am  King 

Arthur's  fool. 
Swine,  say  ye?    swine,  goats,  asses, 

rams,  and  geese 
Troop'd  round  a  Paynim  harper  once, 

who  thrumm'u 
On  such  a  wire  as  musically  as  thou 
Some  such  fine    song- but  never  a 

kiiig's  fool." 

And  Tristram,  **  Then  were  swine, 

goats,  asses,  geeso 
The  wiser  fools,  seeing  thy  Paynim 

bard 
Had  such  a  mastery  of  his  mystery 
That  he  could  harp  his  wife  up  out  cf 

Hell.'* 

Then  Dagonet,  turning  on  the  ball  of 
his  foot, 

''And  whither  harp'st  thou  thine? 
down !  and  thyself 

Down !  and  two  more :  a  helpful  harper 
thou. 

That  harpest  downward!  Dost  thou 
know  the  star 

We  call  the  harp  of  Arthur  up  in  heav- 
en?" 

And  Tristram,  "Ay,  Sir  Fool,  for 

when  our  King 
Was  victor  wellnigh  day  by  day,  tho 

knights. 
Glorying  in  each  new  glory,  set  his 

name 
High  on  all  hills,  and  in  the  signs  of 

heaven." 

And  Dagonet  answer'd,  "Ay,  and 

when  the  land 
Was  freed,  and  the  Queen  f&lse,  ye  set 

yourself 
To  babble  about  him,  all  to  show  yout 

wit — 
And  whether  he  were  king  by  courtesy. 
Or  king  by  right— and  so  went  harping 

<lown 
The  black  king's  highway,  got  so  far, 

and  grew 
So  witty,  that  ye  play'd  at  ducks  and 

drakes 
With  Arthur's  vows  on  the  great  lake 

of  fire. 
Tuwhoo  !  do  ye  see  it?  do  ye  see  the 

star?" 

"Nay,  fool,"  said  Tristn^m,  "not  in 
open  day." 


In  lieu  of  hers.  1  '11  hold  thou  hast      And  Dagonet,  "Nay,  nor  will :  I  see  it 
•  9ome  toucli  I  and  hear. 


TUE  LAST  r 


And  (tieii  lie  Bkip,"    "Lo,  fool,"  L( 

■aid,  ■■  yo  tnlk 
Fool's  treuoii ;  i>  lbs  king  Uiy  l)iotlii!i 

loolr" 
TliCD  little  r»gonet  clopt  lila  haiiiii 

and  ahHI?.!. 
"  Aj.  VI'  ""J  broOier  fool,  Uio  kliij  ol 

ConceiUi  lilmwIC  lu  God  Ihst  he  can 

innke 
Flg»outoIHiiitlei,BUk  Irom  bristles, 

milk 
From   burning  BpnrgB,    honoy    from 


11  tlia  city  Dogonet  Jb 


Before  blm  lltJiUhe  (sea  of  Qneen  I»olt 
WitU  mby-dnJal  neck,  bill  evemiora 
Pnit,  OB  BiuBtle  or  twitter  In  the  wotiit 
Mule  tluU  Ills  lansT, keen Ueoutcreve 
Fot  lUl     Umt   nalk'il,   oi   crept,    or 

Auoa  UiB  face,  a>,  when  a  gml  biitb 

UnruflllnB  walats  ra-ralledt  Ibe  Bbnps 
OIoiietliBt  in  Uieiii  aeaa  blmoeU,  re- 

Biit  Bt  tlie  Klot  or  fiinmetB  nt  a  dner, 
Ot  uVnafBU'ufe;iIbeF,  vnnlBb'd again. 

go  on  for  nil  Ibit  Ouy  from  lawn  to 

Tlico'  many  n  leagne-Iong  bower  Le 

rode.    AtloiigUi 
A    lodge    of    iiitertwlBtad    beooboli- 

FBiic-CTBmni-iI.Hnil  bincken-roofl,  the 

wlilch  lilmself 
Built  for  B  Bunimar  ilny  with  Queen 

Against  a  shower,  dntk  In  the  golden 

Appsaring,    sent  bis   fancy  buck    to 

aha  lived  a  iddou  In  that  low  lodge 


■OURNAilENT. 

Soiweet.  that,  halting,  tn  be  pa 

drift  of  foliage  ti 

But  could  not  real  for  muing 

■inoolh 
And  eleek   his  luBrrlBge  ovei 

Porchanco  iii  lone  Tlntagtl  far  froi 

The  tongueeters  of  Hie  con 

But  t^eu  what  folly  had  sent  litDiOT 

After  Bho    left  hini  lonely  liereT 

Wai  tt  tho  liame  of  one  In  BriI:anT. 
igbter    uf    tho    ElugT 

Of  the  white  liandi "  ibey  cnll'd  In 

Allored  !dm™fliit^S?Hl  lh»n  the  nu 

1ho«  wbilt 


diking, 


in  Triatta 


With  »lx  Ol 
And Bnattdi'dher  thence;  yet  dreading 
Her  watrloc  Triatrani,  spake  not  any 
But  bode  bia  bour,  deviilug  wretched- 

And  now  that  delarl  lodja  W  Ttlst- 


THE  LAST  TOURNAMENT. 


CSV 


A  roar  of  riot,  as  from  men  secure 
Amid  their  mai-ahes,  rtUtiiuis  at  their 

ease 
Among   their   harlot-brides,  an    evil 

song. 
**  Lo  there,"  said  one  of  Arthur*8  youlh, 

for  there. 
High  on  a  grim  dead  tree  before  the 

tower, 
A  goodly  brother  of  The  Table  Round 
Swung  Dv  the  neck  :  and  on  the  boughs 

a  shield 
Showing  a  shower  of  blood  in  a  field 

noir. 
And  there  beside  a  horn,  inflamed  the 

knifljits 
At  that  dishonor  done  the  gilded  &pur. 
Till  each  would  clash  the  shield,  and 

blow  the  horn. 
But  Arthur  waved  them  back :  alone 

he  rode. 
Then  at  the  dry  harsh  roar  of   the 

great  horn. 
That  sent  the  z:ico  of  all  the  marsh 

aloft 
An  ever  upward-rushing  storm  and 

cloud 
Of  shriek  and  plume,  the  Bed  Knight 

heard,  and  all, 
Even  to  tipmost  lance  and  topmost 

helm, 
lu  blood-red  armor  sallying,  howl'd  to 

the  King, 
"The  teeth  of  Hell  flay  bare  and 

gnash  thee  flat !  — 
Lo  !  art  thou  not  that  eiinuch-heai-ted 

Kine 
Who  fain  nad  cllpt  free  manhood  from 

the  world— 
The  woman-worshipper?   Yea,  God's 

curse,  and  1 ! 
Slain  was  the  brother  of  my  paramour 
By  a  knight  of  thine,  and  I  tnat  heard 

her  whine 
And  snivel,  being  eunuch-hearted  too, 
8  ware  by  the  scorpion-worm  that  twists 

in  hell, 
And  stings  itself  to  everlasting  death. 
To  hang  whatever  knight  of  thine  I 

fought 
And  tumbled .    Art  thou  King  ?— Look 

to  thy  life  I " 

He  ended :  Arthur  knew  the  voice  ; 

the  face 
Wellnigh  was  helmet-hidden,  and  the 

name 
Went  wandering  somewhere  darkling 

in  his  mind. 
And  Arthur  deign*d  not  use  of  word  or 

sword. 
But  let  the  drunkard,  as  ho  strctch'd 

from  horse 
To  strike  him.  overbalancing  his  bulk, 
Down  from  the  causeway  neavily  to 

the  swamp 
Fsll,  as  the  crest  of  some  slow-arching 

wave 
XDsard  in  dead  night  along  that  table- 

aboro  | 


Drops  flat,  and  after  the  great  waters 

break 
Whitening  for  half  a  league,  and  thin 

theuiKelves 
Far  over  sands  marbled  with  moon  and 

cloud, 
From  less  and  less  to  nothing ;  thus  ho 

fell 
Head-heavy,  while  the  knights,  who 

watched  him,  roar*d 
And  shouted  and  leapt  down  upon  the 

fall'n ; 
There  trampled  out  his  face  from  being 

known. 
And  sank  his  head  in  mire,  and  slimed 

themselves : 
Nor  heard  the  King  for  their  own  ciies, 

but  sprang 
Thro*  open  doors,  and  swording  right 

and  left 
Men,  women,  on  their  sodden  faces, 

hurl'd 
The  tables  over  and  the  wines,  and 

slew 
Till  all  the  rafters  rang  with  woman- 
yells. 
And  all  the  pavement  Btream*d  with 

massacre : 
Then,  yell  witli  yell  echoing,  they  flred 

Which  half  that  autumn  night,  like  the 

live  North, 
Red-pulsing  up  thro*  Alioth  and  Alcor, 
Made  all  above  it,  and  a  hundred  meres 
About  it,  as  the  water  Moab  saw 
Come  round  by  the  East,  and  out  be- 

yond  them  fliish'd 
The  long  low  dune,  and  lazy-plunging 

sea. 

So  all  the  ways  were  safe  from  shore 

to  shore. 
But  in  the  heart  of  Arthur  pain  was 

lord. 
Then  out  of  Tristram  waking  the  red 

dream 
Fled  with  a  shout,  and  th.it  low  ?odge 

retum*d, 
Mid-forest,  and  the  wind  among  the 

boughs. 
He  whistled  his  good  warhorse  left  to 

graze 
Among  the  forest  greens,  vaulted  upon 

him. 
And  rode  beneath  an  ever-showering 

leaf. 
Till  one  lone  woman,  weeping  near  a 

cross 
Stay'd  him '  *  *  Why  weep  ye  ?  **  "  Lord,** 

she  said,  "  my  man 
Hath  left  me  or  is  dead  **  j  whereon  he 

thought — 
**  What  an  she  hate  me  now  ?  I  would 

not  tliis. 
What  an  she  love  me  still?   I  would 

not  that. 
I  know  not  what  I  would  "  -~biit  said 

to  her, — 
*<  Yet  weep  not  thou,  leet,  if  thy  mate 

return 


r 


V 


THE  LAST  TOUllNAMENT, 


%i 


89 


He  aniwered,  "  O  my  soul,  be  com- 
forted! 

If  this  be  sweet,  to  sin  in  leading- 
strings, 

If  here  be  comfort,  and  if  ours  be  Fin, 

Crown*d  warrant  bad  we  for  tlie  crown- 
ing sin 

That  made  us  happy :  but  how  ye  greet 
me  —  fear 

And  fault  and  doubt— no  word  of  that 
fond  tale  -— 

Thy  deep  heart-yeamingSy  thy  sweet 
memories 

Of  Tristram  in  that  year  he  was  away.'* 

And,  saddening  on  the  sudden,  spake 
Isolt, 
"  I  had  forgotten  all  in  my  strong  joy 
To  see   thee  — yearnings?— ay  1  for, 

hour  by  hour, 
Here  in  the  never-ended  afternoon, 
O  sweeter  than  all  memories  of  thee, 
Deeper  than  any  yearnings  after  thee 
Sc«m'd  those    far-rolling,   westward- 
smiling  seas. 
Watched  from  tliis  tower.     Isolt  of 

Britain  dash'd 
Before  Isolt  of  Brittany  on  the  strand, 
Would  that  have  chiird  her  bride-kiss  ? 

Wedded  her? 
Fought  in  her  father's  battles  ?  wound- 
ed there  ? 
The  King  was  all  f ulilird  with  grateful- 
ness. 
And  she,  my  namesake  of  the  hands, 

that  heard 
Thy  hurt  and  heart  with  unguent  and 

caress  — 
Well  —  can  I  wish  her  any  huger  wrong 
Than  having  known  thee  ?  her  too  hast 

tliou  left 
To  pine    and  waste   in  those   sweet 

memories  ? 
O  were  I  not  my  Mark's,  by  whom  all 

men 
Are  noble,  I  should  hate  thee  more 
than  love." 

And   Tristram,  fondling   her  light 

hands,  replied, 
**  Grace,  Queen,  for  being  loved :  she 

loved  me  well. 
Did  I  love  her?  the  name  at  least  I 

loved. 
Isolt?  — I  fought  his  battles,  for  Isolt ! 
The  night  was  dark :  the  true  star  set. 

Isolt  I 
The  name  was  ruler  of  the  dark 

Isolt? 
Care  not  for  her !  patient,  and  prayer- 
ful, meek. 
Pale-blooded,  she  will  yield  herself  to 

God." 

And  Isolt  answer'd,  **  Yea,  and  why 

not  I  ? 
Mine  is  the  larger  need,  who  am  not 

meek, 
Pale-blooded,  prayerful.'  Let  me  tell 

the   now 


Here  one  black,  mute  midsummer  night 

I  sat 
Lonely,  but  musing  on  thee,  wondering 

where, 
Murmuring  a  light  song  I  had  heard 

thee  sing. 
And  once  or  twice  I  spake  thy  name 

aloud. 
Then  Hash'd  a  levin-brand ;  and  near 

me  stood. 
In  fuming  sulphur  blue  and  green,  a 

fiend  — 
Mark's  way  to  steal  behind  one  in  the 

dark— 
For  there  was  Mark  : '  He  has  wedded 

her,'  he  said. 
Not  said,  but  hissed  it :  then  this  crown 

of  towers 
So  shook  .to  such  a  roar  of  all  the  sky. 
That  here    in   utter  dark  1  swoou'd 

away. 
And  woke  again  in  utter  dark,  and 

cried, 
'I  will  flee  hence  and  give  myself  to 

God'  — 
And  thou  wert  lying  in  thy  new  leman's 

arms." 

Then  Tristram,  ever  dallying  with 

her  hand, 
"  May  God  be  with  thee,  sweet,  when 

old  and  gray, 
And  past  desire  ! "  a  saying  that  an« 

ger'd  her. 
**  *  May  God  be  with  thee,  sweet,  when 

thou  art  old, 
And  sweet  no  more  to  me  !  *   I  need 

Him  now. 
For  when  had  Lancelot  utter'd  aught 

so  gross 
Ev'n  to  Uie  swineherd's  malkin  in  the 

mast? 
Tlie  greater  man,  the  greater  courtesy. 
But  thou,  thro'  ever  harrying  thy  wild 

beasts  — 
Save  that  to  touch  a  harp,  tilt  with  a 

lance 
Becomes  thee  well  — art  grown  wild 

beast  thyself. 
How  darest  thou,  if  lover,  push  me  even 
In  fancy  from  thy  side,  and  set  me  far 
In  the  gray  distance,  half  a  life  away. 
Hero  to  be  1  ved  no  more  ?    Unsay  it, 

unswear  I 
Flatter  me  rather,  seeine  me  so  weak. 
Broken  with  Maik  and  hate  and  soli- 
tude. 
Thy  marriage  and  mine  own,  that  I 

should  suck 
Lies  like  sweet  wines :  lie  to  me :  I 

believe. 
Will  ye  not  lie  ?  not  swear,  as  there  y« 

kneel, 
A  nd  solemnly  as  when  ye  sware  to  him. 
The  man  of  men,  our  King  —  My  God, 

the  power 
Was  once  in  vows  when  men  believed 

tlie  King  ! 
Tliey  lieil  not  then,  who  sware,  and 

thro'  their  vows 


TffE  LAST  TOURNAMENT. 


^ 


le  King  piendllng  made  111 
rear  \a  ma  Ihon  wilt  lov 


Then  TriBtram,  poelng  muodily  up 
•  Voni  !  ,lJd  ye 'keep  tlio  vow  ye  uinae 


* 


itupit  — 
My  lEiilffhthood  tanglit   n 


roronr^^ev'nlotli=  l,dal.t-I  Lon- 
'Man.ig  lie  manal  all?'mMlionglil, 

That  x\aot  ol  Uie  Fasan  throned  In 
nil  hair,  a  mn  UiaC  Tay'd  tiom  oft  s 
Like  hniaiioir  high  liilieavon.Uie  Bteel- 

Tho  BoId«,il«aVa  Ihat  oloUied  liia  lips 

wiih  lipht— 
Moreover,  ihat  weird   leseiid  o(  his 

hlrtli, 
■\Vltli  Marlln'B  myBtic  babUla  about  his 

Shaped  la  ■  drsgDii ;  bo  Beem'd  to  mo 
But  MLchoifl' trampling  Satan;  >a  I 
Eelng  amiued  :  but  thii  nent  by— <be 
O  ay— tbo  wholcnoma  raaJooM  of  (in 
They  aerred  their  use,  their  tlmo ;  for 
ihlmiwlf 
hinwcir! 


Believed  lilmBell  a  grenti 
AniX  every  follower cveii 
Till  lie,  beliiElirte<1u't>b 
Did  mightier  deedt  Uit 

hid  done. 
And  ao  the  renlm  waa  m 


le;  but 


First  iDAliily  tlim'  that  sullying  of  our 

Began  lo  gall  the  knighthoo.!,  uakins 

Had  Arthur  right  to  bind  tliem  to  lilm- 

self? 
Dropt  down  from  heavnu?  wiab'd  up 

nioy  tatlM  to  Iraco  him  thro'  the  Qcsb 


r  old  RliigH  •   when-?e  t] 


GUINEVERE. 


841 


And  after  theie  had  comforted  the 

blood 
With  meats  and  wines,  and  satiated 

their  hearts— 
Now  talking  of  their  woodland  paro- 

dise. 
The   deer,   the   dews,   the   fern,   the 

foiinto,  the  lawns ; 
Now  mocking  at  the  much  ungainli- 

.  ness, 
And  craven  shifts,  and  long  crano  legs 

of  Mark- 
Then  Tristram  laughing  caught  the 

harp,  and  sang : 

"  Ay,  ay,  O  ay— the  winds  that  bend 

tiie  brier ! 
A  star  in  heaven,  a  star  within  the 

mere ! 
Ay,  ay,  O  ay— a  star  was  my  desire, 
And  one  was  far  apart,  and  one  was 

near: 
Ay,  ay,  O  ay— the  winds  that  bow  the 

grass  I 
And  one  was  water  and  one  star  was 

fire, 
And  one  will  ever  shine  and  one  will 

pass. 
Ay,  ay,  O  ayr-the  winds  that  move  the 

mere." 

Then  in  the  light's  last  glimmer  Tris- 
tram 8how*d 

And  swung  the  ruby  carcanet.  She 
cried, 

"  The  collar  of  some  order,  which  our 
King 

Hath  newly  founded,  all  for  thee,  my 
soul, 

For  thee,  to  yield  thee  grace  beyond 
thy  peers." 

"  Not  so,  my  Queen,"  he  said,  "  but 
the  red  fruit 

Grown  on  a  magic  oak-tree  in  mid- 
heaven. 

And  won  by  Tristram  as  a  tourney- 
prize. 

And  hither  brought  by  Tristram  for  his 
last 

Love-offering  and  peace-oif ering  unto 
thee." 

He  rose,  he  tum*d,  and  flinging  round 

her  neck, 
Claspt  it ;  but  while  he  bow'd  himself 

to  lay 
Warm  kisses  in  the  hollow  of  her 

throat. 
Out  of  the  dark,  just  as  the  lips  had 

touch'd. 
Behind  him  rose  a  shadow  and  a  shriek— 
•*  Mark's  way."  said  Mark,  and  clove 

him  thro*  the  brain. 

That  night  came  Arthur  home,  and 

while  he  climb*d, 
All  in  a  death-dumb  autumn-dripping 

gloom. 
The  stairway  to  the  hall,  and  look'd 

and  saw 


The  great  Queen's  bower  was  dark,-* 

About  his  feet 
A  voice  clung  sobbing  till  he  qaestion*d 

it, 
*<  What  art  thou  ?  "  and  the  voice  about 

his  feet 
Sent  up  an  answer,  sobbing,  **  I  am  thy 


apan 
fool, 


And  I  shall  never  make  thee  smile 
again." 


GUINEVERE. 

Queen  Gutxevebe  had  fled  the  court. 

and  sat 
There  in  the  holy  house  at  Almesbury 
Weeping,  none  with  her  save  a  little 

maid, 
A  novice  :  one  low  light  betwixt  them 

bum'd 
Blurr'd  by  the  creeping  mist,  for  all 

abroad. 
Beneath  a  moon  unseen  albeit  at  full, 
The  white  mist,  like  a  face-cloth  to  the 

face. 
Clung  to  the  dead  earth,  and  the  land 

was  still. 

For  hither  had  she  fled,  her  cause  of 

flight 
Sir  Modred  ;  he  that  like  a  subtle  beust 
Lay  couchant  with  his  eyes  upon  the 

throne. 
Beady  to  spring,  waiting  a  chance  :  for 

this. 
He  chiird  the  popular  praises  of  the 

King 
With  silent  smiles  of  slow  disparage- 
ment ; 
And  tamperM  with  the  Lords  of  the 

White  Horse, 
Heatlien,  the  brood  by  Hengist  left ; 

aiui  sought 
To    make    disruption    in  the  Table 

Bound 
Of  Arthur  and  to  splinter  it  into  feuds 
Serving  his  traitorous  end  ;  and  all  his 

aims 
Were  sharpened  by  strong  hate  for 

Lancelot. 

For  thus  it  chanced  one  mom  when 

all  the  court. 
Green-suited,  but  with  plumes  that 

mock'd  the  may. 
Had  been,  their  wont,  a-maying  and 

retuni'd. 
That  Modred  still  in  green,  all  ear  and 

eye 
Climb'd  to  the  high  top  of  the  garden- 
wall 
To  spy  some  secret  scandal  if  he  might. 
And  saw  the  Queen  who  sat  l>etwixt 

her  best 
Enid,  and  lissome  Vivien,  of  her  court 
The  wiliest  and  the  worst ;  and  more 

than  this 
He  saw  not,  for  Sir  Lancelot  passing 

by 


r 


\ 


I 


Spied  where  lifl  ronrli'd,  and  i 

nnlMTsr'aliiKiil 
Ficlii  inni  Ibecolevrorl  nerean 

pllL»r, 
Bo  f  roin  the  tilgh  wall  and  tlic  llo  v 

Of  gruute!  LsuMloc  pluck' d  tdm 


But  wbflii  lis  kii«tr  iliB  PtlDce  [Lb' 

He,  rerercaclng  klug's  blood  lu  a  bad 

Uide  Buch  eicum  ob  he  might,  and 

Full  knightly  witliaut  Honi ;  for  In 

llioudayi 
Ko  kniglit  of  Arthur'e  nubleit  dealt  in 


GtrmEVERE. 

Beside  the  pluld  breathing!  of  II 

In  the  detui'iilght,  grliD  faces  csnu  ai 

Before  bPr,  or  a.  vnciio  (.piriloil  feai 
Liko  Id  w>ui.:dr>uljlJ^li>i£sot  cie4kl 

Heard  by  tlio  natcfaer  iii  a  haunl 

Tbut  k  Hilt  the  ru«t  of  murder  out 

WOllB— 

Held  he 


It,  If  a 


«  halt  o[ 


By  Uidu  whom  God  tisd  madefull- 

Umb'd  and  wll. 
Beorn  wmi  alluw'd  ua  iwrt  of  blsdefci't, 
Aiid  Lo   vtw  aDBweid  aoftly   by  thu 


A»OiB  sharp  wind  U 

AHttle"blllBrp"ol  n' 
Ou  the  bure  cDtut. 


This  iTiiitter  to  the  Queen,  nt  llrBtal 
Lightly,  to  111! "It  of  llodrcd's  dua 


Then  TauRli'd  again,  but  faintUer,  fo 
She  halt-lorcisw  Oinl  he,  the  nubtl 
Would  truck  hot  e"il'  """1  lie  founJ 
Would  bo  tor    avermora  a  name  o 

llenceforHlird  tarely  could  she  fron 

In  Hall, 
Or  eliewliere,  Modrcd'a  iiatrowfox, 

faoa, 
Heart-hidine  amilo,  aiid  Bray  perels 

Heneeforwsrd'  too,  the  Poircn   thn 

tend  the  BDul, 
To  helD  It  Imm  the  deatli  Uint  cumo 

cUe, 
And  BttVH  It  oieu  In  oitremca,  liegnn 
To  rex  and  plague  her.     Jlouy  a  tlm 


An  awful  liream  ;  for  Uien  ahe  ae^'ni 

10  stand 
On  Bome  vut  plain  before  a  Eellli 

Andf rotn'tho  Bun  there  swiftly  made 

A  BhoBllyaometlilng,  mul  lla  ahodc 

Before  it.  till  it  touch'd  her.  mid  il 

tuniM— 
When  lot  her  own,  tlint  broadculi 

from  her  feet. 
A»dblaekeuing,  Bwullow'd  all  lUolaii 


nit 


d  all  tl 


nd  with  acrj'  ■ 
lo  did  not  V4m  t 


IIU  eVn  Ibo  clear  face  of  tlia 

Klnp. 
And  tnisiful  courleBlca  of 

life, 
BEcameliar  bane;  nndat  the  laata 

Bkid. 
''  O  Laui'elot.  get  thcv  henee  lo  (III 

Forlrthon  tarry  we  Khali  meet  B£al 

clioneo 
Will  make  Ihe  pmmildeting  ■enul 


King. 
And  Laneo] 

Andatillthi 


people,  and  our  lord  til 
at  ever  promised,  bat  K 

ot.  if  thou  \uvB  me  get  lh( 
they  were  agreed  upon 


And 


id  tbt 

niuht 
"hen  the  good  King  should  na 

r  oier.    roaalon-pal* 


id  greeted : 
won  the  border  of  her  couch  tbef 
Stammering  and  Btorlng^  it 

>d3Iadtx4 


liut  1ion_. 
LmadneBaoffarawulls.    , 
-  mught 


0  the  ha 


It  at  I 


;  and  enrlug  vtUt  tu 


GUINEVERE. 


343 


'*  Traitor,  come  ont,  je  are  trapt  at 

last,'*  aroused 
Lancelot,  who  rushing  outward  lion- 
like 
Leapt  on  him,  and  hurPd  him  headlong, 

and  he  fell 
Stunn'd,  and  his  creatures  took  and 

bare  him  off 
And  all  was  still :  then  she,  "  the  end 

is  come 
And  I  am  shamed  for  ever  ;  **  and  he 

said 
*'  Mine  be  the  shame ;  mine  was  the 

sin:  but  rise, 
And  fly  to  my  strong  castle  overseas  : 
There  will  1  hide  thee,  UU  my  life  shall 

end, 
There  hold  thee  with  my  life  against 

the  world.'* 
She  answer'd   "  Lancelot,  wilt   thou 

hold  me  so  ? 
Nay  friend,  for  we  have  taken  our  fare- 
wells. 
Would  God,  that  thou  couldst  hide  me 

from  myself  ! 
Mine  is  the  shame,  for  I  was  wife,  and 

thou 
Unwedded  :  yet  rise  now,  and  let  us 

fly» 

For  I  will  draw  me  into  sanctuary, 
And  bide  my  doom.**    So  Lancelot  got 

her  horse, 
Set  her  thereon,  and  mounted  on  his 

own, 
And  then  they  rode  to  the  divided  way, 
There  kiss'd,  and  parted  weeping  :  for 

he  past. 
Love-loyal  to  the  least  wish  of  the 

Queen, 
Back  to  his  land ;  but  she  to  Almes- 

bury 
Fled  all  night  lone    by    glimmering 

waste  and  weald, 
And  heard  the  Spirits  of  the  waste  and 

weald 
Moan  as  she  fled,  or  thought  she  heard 

them  moan  : 
And  in  herself  she  moaned  **  too  late, 

too  late  !  *» 
Till  in  the  cold  wind  that  foreruns  the 

morn, 
A  blot  in  heaven,  the  Haven,  flying 

high, 
Croak'd,  and  she  thought  **  he  spies  a 

field  of  death ; 
For  now  the  Heathen  of  the  Northern 

Sea, 
Lured  by  the  crimes  and  frailties  of  the 

court. 
Begin  to  slay  the  folk,  and  spoil  tlie 

laud.*' 

And  when  she  came  to  Almesbury 
she  spake 

There  to  the  nuns,  and  said,  mine 
enemies 

Pursue  me,  but,  O  peaceful  Sister- 
hood, 

Eaeeive.aud  yield  me  sanctuary,  nor 
ask 


Her  name,  to  whom  ye  yield  it,  till  hef 

time 
To  tell  you  :  **  and  her  beauty,  grac^ 

and  power 
Wrought  as  a  charm  upon  them,  and 

tliev  spared 
To  ask  it. 

So  the  stately  Queen  abode 
For  many  a  week,  unknown,  among 

the  nuns  ; 
Nor  with  them    mix'd,  nor  told  her 

name,  nor  sought, 
Wrapt  in  her  grief,  for  housel  or  for 

shrift, 
But  communed  only  with  the  little 

maid, 
Who  pleased  her  with  a  babbling  heed- 
lessness 
Which  often  lured  her  from  herself ; 

but  now. 
This  night,  a  rumor  wildly  blown  about 
Came,  tliat  Sir  Modred  nad  usurped 

the  realm, 
And  leagued  him  with  the  heathen, 

whfie  the  Iving 
Was  waging  war  on  Lancelot :  then 

she  thought, 
*^  With  what  a  hate  the  people  and  the 

King 
Must  hate  me,**  and  bow'ddown  upon 

her  hands 
Silent,    until    the    little  maid,    who 

brook 'd 
No  silence,  brake  it,  uttering  <'late!- 

so  late  ! 
What    hour,  I  wonder,  now?"  and 

when  she  drew 
No  answer,  by  and  by  began  to  hum 
An  air  the  nuns  had  taught  her ;  **  late, 

so  late  I  ** 
Which  when  she  heard,   the  Queen 

look'd  up,  and  said, 
'*  O  maiden,  if  indeed  ye  list  to  sing. 
Sing,  and  unbind  my  hearb  that  I  may 

weep.'* 
Whereat  full  willingly  sang  the  little 

maid. 

"  Late,  late  so  late  !  and  dark  th« 

night  and  chili ! 
I^ate,  late,  so  late !  but  we  can  enter 

still. 
Too  late,  too  late  I  ye  cannot  enter 

now. 

"  No  light  had  we  :  for  that  we  do 

repent ; 
And  learning  this,  the  bridegroom  will 

relent. 
Too  late,  too  late !  ye  cannot  enter  now. 

**  No  light :  so  late  :  and  dark  and 
chill  the  nigh«i ! 
O  let  us  in,  that  we  may  find  the  light ! 
Too  late,  too  late :   ye  cannot  entei 
now. 

Have  we  not  heard  the  bridegroom 
is  so  sweet? 


IlerltEBdupouhc 
Her  iLoUflit  who 

itinlB'hcL-Bmo.wepl 
u  iiovlce  pntUlng  to 

"  0  ^IW  y™. 

nob 

e  lad)-,  woep 
word,  ol  Olio 

: 

thL 

e   knows  1)ut 

to 

«1 

penanoo  ei»o 

- 

.mCort 

From  evil  done;  riglit  eure  am  I  of 

WlioKsyonr  tender  grBce  ami  BtntelU 

Bnt  weigh  jour  aoiiowa  with  oni  lord 

Andweighlngliiia  tlieinl>«i;  focgona 

To  nge  grim  witrngainat  Sir  Lancelot 

Hoanddiat'itrDngfAatlenlierelialiolds 

the  IJiioBii ; 
And  Mo.lred  whom  he  left  in  charge  or 

lail;,  Uie  Klng'i 

Hit,  and  Mb  own  Quean, 

it  nemlabe  thrice  03  great  as  an;  of 

me,  1  Uiank  the  ailnts.  I  am  not 

U^re  erer  conie  n  grief  to  me 


,  ,'"•' 


Soiie 


But  even  were  ttiujgrisfii  of  little  ot 
At  gi'eat  an  iIuhb  otgreat  oiiee,  yet  t 


to  Ihs  griefs  the  gre&t  must 

Tliatliowsoever  much  tkef  may  desire 
J,   they  oanuot  Heap  hahltid  c 

talk  at  Almeiburr 


Sllsuce 


the  goo.liiiiig  uid 

anecn, 
might  I  ndeli 


the  child  kill  me  with  her  Inr 

enttalk?" 

Billy  she  niuwor'il  "  muMiwA 


VERE. 
U  Ibis  false  traitor  hnve  displaced  hi 


"  Tea,"  said  the  m^il,  •'  tti*  I*  ill 
womaiiB  Brief , 
ThntiAe  ia  wamiui.  wHoM  dUlnysl  il(p 
Kath  wrouahl  ooufusioii  In  Uie  Table 

WUch    good  Ring  Arthui    founded, 

^llli  sigiiB  and' mlractea  and  wonders, 


Tlien  tliongbt  the  Queen  wIlLin  her- 
self noBln  ; 
"  Will  the  child  kill  me  wiUi  licr  toel- 

But  openly  BliB  (pake  and  said  lo  her: 
■■  O  Utile  nuJd,  hIiui  In  by  uuunery 

What  rarstthou  know  of  King*  and 

Tables  Kouiid.  ^ 

Or  wbul  of  signs  and  Trmtdeis,  but  ths 

And  simple  miraalcsof  tby  nmuiarTi" 

To  whom  thelittlo  novice  gnmilous- 

"  Tea,  bnt  I  know  :  the  land  was  full 


la  Iheretofrom  I.yoniie 


Aflcr  Uie  Bunsst,  don 


.  beanon-Blar  upon  hU 
B  wild  ften-llgli(  aUi 

«aw  Uiem  — hEadland  afler 


Far  01 


L<1  In  1 


And  at 


lan-hreaatcd  things  ttoul 

!Bp  aea-vnico  ihro"  nil  tin 

little  elres  of  cUauii  lud 

Made  answer,  aomidliig  like  ■  dlMaBt 


deft 


>'Bxt  moroinB,  while  he  loat  lb*  dlib- 


GUINEVERE, 


845 


Bimielf  beheld  three  spirits  mad  with 

joy 
Come  dashing  doim  on  a  tall  wayside 

iiower» 
That  shook  heneath  them,  as  the  thistle 

shakes 
When  three  eray  linnets  wrangle  for 

the  seed : 
And  still  at  evenings  on  before  his 

horse 
The  flickering  fairy-circle  wheel'd  and 

broke 
Flying,  and  link*d  again,  and  wheePd 

and  broke 
Flying,  for  all  the  land  was  full  of  life* 
And  when  at  last  he  came  to  Camelot. 
A  wreath  of  airy  dancers  hand-in-hand 
Swung  round  the  lighted  lantern  of  the 

hall ; 
And  in  the  hall  itself  was  such  a  feast 
As  never  man  had  dream'd  \  for  every 

knight 
Had  whatsoever  meat  he  long*d  for 

served 
By  hands  unseen :  and  even  as  he  said 
I>owii  in  the  cellars  merry  bloated 

things 
Shoulder'a  the  spigot,  straddling  on 

the  butts 
While  the  wijie  ran:   so  glad  were 

spirits  and  men 
Before  the  coming  of  the  sinf  ulQueen." 

Then  spake  the  Queen  and  somewhat 

bitterly. 
"  Were  they   so   glad  ?    ill   prophets 

were  they  all. 
Spirits  and  men  :  could  none  of  them 

foresee. 
Not  even  thy  wise  father  with  his  signs 
And  wonders,  what  has  f  alPn  upon  the 

realm?" 

To  whom    the  novice  garrulously 

again. 
**  Tea,  one,  a  bard ;  of  whom  my  father 

said. 
Full  many  a  noble  war-song  had  he 

Ev'n  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy's 
fleet. 

Between  the  steep  cliff  and  Uie  coming 
wave  * 

And  many  *  a  mystic  lay  of  life  and 
death 

Had  chanted  on  the  smoky  mountain- 
tops, 

When  round  him  bent  the  spirits  of  the 
hills 

"With  all  their  dewy  hair  blown  back 

So  said  mv  father—  and  that  night  the 

bard 
Sang  Arthur's  glorious  wars,  and  sang 

the  King 
As  wellnigh  more  than  man,  and  raird 

at  those 
Tn&o  caird  him  the  false  son  of  Oor- 

lott: 
Foe    there  was   no  man  knew  from 

whencrt  he  ram" ; 


But  after  tempest,  when  the  long  wave 

broke 
All  down  the  thundering  shores  of 

Bude  and  Bos, 
There  came  a  day  as  still  as  heaven, 

and  tlien 
They  found  a  naked  child  upon  the 

sands 
Of  dark  Tintagil  by  the  Comieh  sea ; 
And  that  was  Arthur ;  and  they  f  os- 

ter'd  him 
Till  he  by  miracle  was  approvcn  king : 
And  that  his  grave  should  be  a  mystery 
From  all  men,  like  his  birth ;    and 

could  he  find 
A  woman  in  her  woniRnhoo<l  as  great 
As  he  was  in  his  manhood,  then,  he 

sang. 
The  twain  together  well  might  change 

the  world. 
But  even  in  the  middle  of  his  song 
Ue  falter' d,  and  his  hand  fell  from  the 

harp, 
And  pale  he  tum*d.  and  reel*d,  and 

would  have  falrn, 
But  that  they  stay 'd  him  up  ;  nor  would 

he  tell 
Ilis  vision ;  but  what  doubt  that  he  fore- 
saw 
This  evil  work  of  Lancelot  and  the 

Queen?" 

Then  thought  the  Queen  "  lo  !  they 

have  set  her  un, 
Our  simple-seeming  Abbess  and  her 

nuns. 
To  play  upon  me,"  andbow*d  her  head 

nor  spake. 
Whereat  the  novice  crying,  with  clasp*d 

hands, 
Shame  on  her  own  garrulity  garrulous- 
Said  the  good  nuns  would  check  her 

gadding  tongue 
Full  often,  *•  and,  sweet  lady,  if  I  seem 
To  vex  an  ear  too  sad  to  listen  to  me. 
Unmannerly,  with  prattlhig  and  the 

tales 
Which  my  good  father  told,  check  me 

too: 
Nor  let  me  shame  my  father's  memory, 

one 
Of  noblest  manners,  tho*  himself  would 

say 
Sir  Lancelot  had  the  noblest ;  and  he 

died, 
Kiird  in  a  tilt,  come  next,  five  sum- 
mers back. 
And  left  mu ;  but  of  others  who  remain, 
And  of  the  two  flrst-famed  for  court- 
esy— 
And  pray  you  check  me  If  I  ask  amiss— 
But  pray  you,  which  had  noblest,  while 

you  moved 
Among  them,  Lancelot  or  our  lord  the 

King?" 

Then  the  pale  Queen  look*d  up  and 
answerd  her. 
«Sir   Lancelot,  as  became  a  iMfolft 
knight. 


f 


V 


WwffTBcloiii  ta  all  1adi«,  nn<l  the  i 
III  oiion  httltiB  or  IhB  -"•'—  "-'■' 
focbore  Ilia  awu  wli 


GUINEVERE. 

Fled   fiighlfid.     Tlien  Dint  oQier 

li  the      Blgh'il, nnd  began  toeatlier heart sgiiiri, 
Suyliig  ill  lienelf  ■'  Hik  iiin|ile,  fenrtiii 

ly  own  tDO-fcaitsl 


]t  tbe  fruit 


giUlt 
Simr'sr  lliaii  Buy  child,  botrays  lUi 
,....,„, ^ ,  for  surely  I 


II  help  II 


Of  loyal  iiBluce>  and  i>l  noble  ni 
Yea."  udcl  the  tnald.  "be man 

Then  Luivelat'*  needaoiuetbeathou- 

«nd-(old 
li&u  i\oh\e,  being*  m  all  minor  rmifi, 
Tlie    most  dlgloyai  frieud  lu  all  th 

world." 
To  kMcIi  a  nioumrul  answer  mad 

theQueeii. 

^Vliat  kiinweat  tliou  oF  Ihe  world,  an 

nil  Its  llElits 
And  iliadows.  all  the  wcnltL  uut  all  tl 

If    BTOr    i^neelol,   lliat   most  nob 

hlllEllL, 

■Weco  for  oue  hour  Ices  noble  than  Uli 

Bl>K, 

Pray  lor  hliu  that  he  Bcapo  Iha  doom 


t  b  true    ropcntnnco  bnt  In 

3"''"™*  ""'"*"' 

tlmt  maile  Uie  paat  so  p 


A-n.l  BT'ii  In  Baying  Oih, 
Her  memory   from  ol'   >—''--  -- -■- 

Bllpplug  back  upon  the  (pildaa 

[loll  ahe  aaw  lilm  first,  when  Iadc*- 

Bopnted  the  best  knight  an.l  Boojllwt 

.o  his  InnI 


laid  the  lIHlo  uovlce,  ■■  I  pray 
ill  all  M  loon  belieie  thathla. 


Itaptinsweeculkor 

liiil  (port  and  tilts  i 

tliB  time 


>D.I  Itr 


moTini 


k;s 


Dves  that  look'd  a  pan- 


would  b?       ' 
Bach  as  thiiy  a 


So  >hB.  like  many  anothor  bo 

'Whom  ^e  would  Boothe,  and  harm'd 

where  stie  would  lieal : 
For  hare  a  sudden  flush  oC  wrathful 

Find  all  (he  pais  face  of  the  Queen, 

"Huch  as  thou  art  be  nover  maidau 

For  tverl  Ihon  Ihsir  tool,  set  on  to 
_     _   plSKoo 
And  play  uiion.and  harry  me,  petty  spy 

Whito  as  her  yell,  a 


e  Queen  had  added  ■'  get 


And  on  from  hill' 
Beheld  at  noon  In  so: 
[laTllioiia 


HI  immetHd  ia 
oving  through  the  |>astiiiM 

ot  where  Dot  abe 


;  Journey  done,  rhuicad   at  Ub, 

thought  Mm  oold, 
;b,  eelt-eoDCTln'd,  nitd 


GUINEVERE. 


817 


*Kot  like  ray  Lancelot  **— while  she 

hrooded  thus 
And  grew  half-guilty  in  her  thoughts 

again, 
There  rode  an  armed  warrior  to  the 

doors. 
A  murmuring  whisper  thro*  the  nun- 

nery.raij, 
Then  on  a  sudden  a  cry,  "  the  King.*' 

She  sat 
Stiff-etricken,     listening;   but   when 

armed  feet 
Thro'  the  long  gallery  from  the  outer 

doors 
Bang  coming,  prone  from  off  her  seat 

she  fen. 
And  grovell'd  with  her  face  against  the 

floor : 
There  with  her  milkwhite  arms  and 

shadowy  hair 
She  made  her  face  a  darkness  from  the 

King: 
And  in  the  darkness  heard  his  armed 

feet 
Pause  by  her ;  then  came  silence,  then 

a  voice, 
Monotonous  and  hollow  like  a  Ghost's 
Denouncing     judgment,      but     the* 

changed  the  King's. 

"Liest  thou  here  so  low,  the  child  of 

one 
I  honor'd,  happy,   dead  before  thy 

shame  ? 
Well  is  it  that  no  child  is  bom  of  thee. 
The  children  boni  of  thee  are  sword 

and  fire. 
Bed  ruin,  and  the  breaking  up  of  laws. 
The  craft  of  kindred  and  the  Godless 

hosts 
Of  heathen  swarming  o'er  the  North- 
cm  Sea. 
Whom  I,  while  yet  Sir  Lancelot,  my 

right  arm. 
The  mightiest  of  my  knights,  abode 

with  me, 
Have  everywhere  about  this  land  of 

Chnst 
In  twelve  great  battles  ruining  over- 
thrown. 
And  knowest  thou  now  from  whence  I 

come — from  him. 
From  wasing  bitter  war  with  him : 

andne. 
That  did  not  shun  to  smite  me  in 

worse  way, 
Had  yet  that  grace  of  courtesy  in  him 

left, 
He  spared  to  lift  his  hand  against  the 

King 
Who  made  him  knight :  but  many  a 

knight  was  slain ; 
And  many  jnore,  and  all  his  kith  and 

kin 
Clave  to  him,  and  abodo  in  his  own 

land. 
And  many  more  when  Modrcd  raised 

revolt, 
forgetful  of  their  troth  and  fealty, 

clave 


To  Modred,  and  a  remnant  stays  with 

me. 
And  of  this  remnant  will  I  leave  *  a 

part. 
True  men  who  love  me  still,  for  whom 

I  live. 
To  guard  thee  in  the  wild  hour  coming 

on. 
Lest  but  a  hair  of  this  low  head  be 

harm'd. 
Fear  not :  tliou  shalt  be  guarded  till 

my  death. 
Howbeit  I  know,  if  ancient  prophecies 
Have  err*d  not,  that  1  march  to  meet 

my  doom. 
Thou  hast  not  made  my  life  so  sweet 

tome, 
That  I  the  King  should  greatly  care  to 

liv  ; 
For  thou  hast  spoilt  the  purpose  of  my 

life. 
Bear  with  me  for  the  lost  time  while  I 

show, 
£v*n  for  thy  sake,  the  sin  which  thou 

■  hastsinn'd. 
For  when  tbe  Roman  left  us,  and  their 

law 
Relax'd  its  hold  upon  us,  and  the  ways 
Were  fill'd  with  rapine,  here  and  there 

a  deed 
Of  prowess  done  redress'd  a  random 

wrong. 
But  I  was  first  of  all  the  kings  who 

drew 
The  kniehthood-errant  of  this  realm 


ig 
id 


and  all 
The  realms  together  under  me,  their 

Head, 
In  that  fair  order  of  my  Table  Bound, 
A  glorious  company,   the   flower  of 

men. 
To  sei've   as  model  for  the  mighty 

world, 
And  be  the  fair  beginning  of  a  time. 
I  made  tliem  lay  their  hands  in  mine 

and  swear 
To  reverence  the  King,  as  if  he  were 
Their  conscience,  and  their  conscience 

as  tlieir  Iving, 
To  break  the  heathen  and  uphold  the 

Christ, 
To  ride    abroad    redressing    human 

wrongs. 
To  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to 

it. 
To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity. 
To  love  one  maiden  only,  cleave  to 

her. 
And  woi-ship  her  by  years  of  noble 

deeds, 
Until   they  won  her  ;  for  indeed  I 

knew 
Of  no  more  subtle  master  under  heaven 
Than  is  the  maiden  passion  for  a  maid» 
Not  only  to  keep  down  the  base  in 

man. 
But  teach  high  thought,  and  amiable 

words 
And  courtliness,  and  the  desire  ok 

fame. 


t 


^^^■1 


nUINEVERE. 


BeUevlug,  'lo  mine  lislpnuite,  one  1o 

My  purpose  nml  rejoining  In  my  joy.' 
■i'liBH   cauia   Oiy   ■bauieTul  »ln   wiUi 

Then  cams  llie  tin  at  TrUtram  ninl 

Imtt; 
Tlieti  oiJii.-ii!|foI1owliiB  Uiese  niy  inlgh-J- 

And  lirnniiiBtoul  eiuatopla  from  li^r 

Sinn'il  nlXD.tlU  tlio  loalhinma  omiosICa 


mliio 


ittMsl 


% 


I  Eonrd  B»  Coil's  iiigU  e"'  f"»"  foitlie 

Sol  greatly  cars  lo  loso ;  bat  cnUier 

IliLtik 
How  Bail  11  viotE  tor  Arlliiir.  iliould  ho 

0  williln  Ilia  loiicly 

nteil  tinmber  of  ray 

And  Dilss  to  'hetr  MEh  Inlk  of  uoblo 


Aud  ill  Uiy  bowBiB  ot  Cainalot  ot  of 

Thy  Bliailoir  lUll  nould   glido   trom 

Aud  I  (liould  o?BnaoTO  boveitwIUi 

In  liangliie  robs  or  vncant  ornament 
Ut   gliintfy  footfall   eoliniiig   ou  ibe 


Iljoldtl 
■\VlM>  tiU 


'B  f  nlBO,  abide  and  nilo 


Creepe,  noprecaalion  at 


.oodsUntlil 

polKoia  luU 

tbac  telBlXB  1 
Better  the   King's  voato  bearUk  and 

acWngUenn; 
Tlian  iboD  reseated  in  tliT  till 

llgl". 
The  moekery  ot  my  people,  and 

lie  pauaed,  sml  In  (bo  paoi 

Xesrer,  aud  laid  Iter  linutU  itboat  till' 

off  a  solitary  tnitupet  blea. 


walUiieby  Ills  a< 
hotaa  ueidi'il 
tafrieudTvoiee, 


tbyci 


lilnk  II 


t  Hint  I 


coma  to  ugl 


I  did  w 


I,  wlwBB  i-oflt  pity  nlmoBt  makes  n 

To  see  ihne,  laylnc  Uioro  thy  goMi 

Jly  pride  In  bappler  summen,  H  x 

Tbo  nntth  vlilrli  forced  my  tlunih 

OHtbntllen'elnw, 
Tlie  ilooiu  ot  Ireaiou  and  Uie  OmbIii 

(Wben  firat'l  Icornt  thae  b<<ld«i  ber^ 
tapast. 

rblob  nbile  I  weigh' 


with  one 


li-,llj  ir 


0  Golden  hnir,  wltli  wli 

play 

Sot    kuowingl    O    imperial-moulded 
And  beaaty   such    ns   never 

1  cannot  tonch  thy  lips,  tbey  i 

But  I-uucfllol'B  :  nay,  Ibey  ner 

I  cannot  taku  thy  hand ; .  tlial  ti 

And  In  tlw  fleah  tbon  host  slnn'd  1  a 

mine  own  flesli. 
Here  looking  down  onU 

'Iloathetheai'  yettuil 


GUINEVERE, 


849 


For  X  was  ever  riivin  save  for  thee, 
Hy  love  thro*  flesh  hath  wrought  into 

my  life 
So  far,  that  my  doom  is,  I  loye  thee 

still. 
Let  no  man  dream  but  that  I  love  thee 

still, 
Perchance,  and  so    thou   purify  thy 

soul, 
And  so  thou  lean  on  our  fair  father 

Christ, 
Hereafter  in  that  world  where  all  are 

pure 
We  two  may  meet  before  high  God, 

and  thou 
Wilt  spring  to  me,  and  claim  me  thine, 

and  Know 
I  am  thine  husband— not  a  smaller 

soul, 
Kor  Lancelot,  nor  another.    Leave  mo 

that, 
I  charge  tliee,  my  last  hope.  Now  must 

I  hence. 
Thro*  the  thiclc  night  I  hear  the  trum- 
pet blow  : 
They  summon  me  their  King  to  lead 

mine  hosts 
Far  down  to  that  great  battle  in  the 

west. 
Where  I  must  strike  against  the  man 

they  call 
Hy  sisters  son — no  kin  of  mine,  who 

leagues 
With  lords  of  the  White  Horse,  hea- 
then, and  knights  — 
Traitors — and  strike  him  dead,  and 

meet  myself 
Death,  or  I  know  not  what  mysterious 

doom. 
And  thou  remaining  here  wilt  learn 

the  event ; 
But  hither  shall  I  never  come  again, 
liever  lie  by  thy  side,  see  thee  no  more. 
Farewell  I '^ 

And  while  she  grovelVd  at  his  feet. 
She  felt  the  Kiug^s  breath  wander  o'er 

her  neck. 
And  in  tlie  darkness  o*er  her  fallen 

head, 
Perceived  the  waving  of  his  hands  that 

blest. 

Then,  listening  till  those  armed  steps 

were  gone, 
Bosethe  pale  Queen,  and  in  her  an- 

guisii  found 
The  casement :  *'  peradventure  **  so  she 

thought, 
*  If  I  might  see  his  face,  and  not  be 

seen." 
And  lo,  he  aat  on  horseback  at  the 

door ! 
And  near  him  the  sad  nuns  with  each 

a  light 
Stood,  and  he  gave  them  charge  about 

the  Queen, 
To  ffoard  and  foster  her  for  evermore. 
Auu  while  he  spake  to  these  his  helm 

was  lower*d, 


To  which  for  crest  the  golden  dragon 

clung 
Of  Britain ;  so  she  did  not  see  the  face, 
Which  then  was  as  an  angel's,  but  she 

saw. 
Wet  with  the  mists  and  smitten  by  the 

lights. 
The  Dragon  of  the  great  Pendragon* 

ship 
Blaze,  making  all  the  night  a  steam  oi 

fire. 
And  even  then  he  tum*d;  and  more 

and  more 
The  moony  vapor  rolling  round  the 

King, 
Who  seeni'd  the  phantom  of  a  Giant 

in  it, 
Enwound  him  fold  by  fold,  and  made 

him  gray 
And  grayer,  till  himself  became  as 

mist 
Before  her,  moving  ghostlike  to  his 

doom. 

Then  she  stretch'd  out  her  arms  and 

cried  aloud 
**0  Arthur!"  there  her  voice  brake 

suddenly. 
Then— as  a  stream  that  spouting  from 

a  cliff 
Fails  in  mid  air,  but  gathering  at  the 

base 
Re-makes  itself,  and  flashes  down  the 

vale  — 
Went  on  in  passionate  utterance. 

**Gone— my  lordt 
Gone  thro*  my  sin  to  slay  and  to  be 

slain ! 
And  he  forgave  me,  and  I  could  not 

speak. 
Farewell  ?    I  should  have  answer'd  his 

farewell. 
His  mercy  choked  me.    Gone,  my  lord 

the  King, 
My  own  true  lord  !  how  dare  I  call  him 

mine  ? 
The  shadow  of  another  cleaves  to  me, 
And  makes  me  one  pollution  :  he,  the 

*      King, 
Caird  mo  polluted :  shall  I  kill  myself  ? 
What  help  in  that  ?    I  cannot  kill  my 

sin. 
If  soul  be  soul;  nor  can  I  kill  my 

shame ; 
No,  nor  by  living  can  I  live  it  down. 
The  days  will  grow  to  weeks,  the  weeka 

to  months. 
The  months  will  add  themselves  and 

make  the  years, 
Tlie  years  will  roll  into  the  centuries. 
And  mine  will  ever  be  a  name  of  sconi. 
I  must  not  dwell  on  that  defeat  of 

fame. 
Let  the  world  be ;  that  is  but  of  the 

world. 
What  else  ?  what  hope  ?  I  think  there 

was  a  hope. 
Except  he  mock'd  me  when  he  s^akA 

olliOV«\ 


f- 


SM  THE  PASSING 

HIa  bope  be  ORll'd  il ;  bat  hs  nere' 
For  mockErV  Is  the  fume  ol  ll(t<> 
And  litEUeJ  be  the  Ring,  vho  hstl 
Uy  wlukedneas  to  him,  aud  Icfl  mt 
Tlint  In  Riiiie  ovni  heart  I  can  live  dowi 
Alid  bo  his  mate  hGToaftoi  in  lUi 
BctorohinhUoil.  Ah  peat  ami  genlli 


•;.T"' 


1  eully  all  Impressions  frm 


Would  11 

To  irhieh  I  would  not  or  I  raulil 

climb— 
I  thfmeht  I  could  not  breatlio  tu  that 

Sue  III 

wiuciri 


.-,.,  look  - 


a  sevcrltj  of  perfect  Uglil — 


UlOOBT 


lelilaliasi 


ind  moat  Lus 


Will  tell  the  Klug  I  lore  lilm  tbo'  so 
NoVF— ere  ho  goes  to  Ihc  great  DsClle  ? 
MysoICmus't  tell  him  In  that  purflrllfo. 

God,     . 
What  mlitht  I  not  have  made  of  tby 

fair  world. 
Had  I  but  loTed  Ibj  highest  crsature 

It  was  my  dutr  to  haTo  loved  the  iilgh- 

It  surely  was  my  proDt  hud  I  known  : 
It  would  hare  been  luy  pleasure  hud  1 

Ws  needs  mutt  lore  the  Mgheat  when 
Kot  Lauoelot,  nor  another." 

Here  her  hand 
GniBp'd,  made  her  rell  her  eyes  :  Bhe 

Ths  uovlpo,  -weeping,  suppliant,  a; 

tiAA  to  ber 
"  Yea,  little  maid,  for  am  I  not  f i 


Within  her,  and  she  wept  with  ihea 
and  said. 
"Yeknowmellion,lliaX^(\i;Tio4Qiii 


OF  ARTHUR. 

It  dealgn  and  nurpoae  o 
Inn. 

irrqiTlng  m 

Meek  mafd"  IS,' 
■  ehame.- 


^'ur  sliun  to  caJl  uiq 
Waor  Ji'st'k  and  white,  and  be  a  dii»] 
Fast  with  your  fasta,  not  feasting  wllb 
Grieve  withyour  Erlefa,  not  giieTing  M 
But  not  rejoicing  ;  nuiigle  with  iMir 


Walk  your  dim  cloister,  auii  lUsuiliDU 
To  poor  sick  people,  richer  in  bin  cnn 
Who  ramoni'd  us,«nd  haler  loo  than  1 ! 
their  loaibauDie  burls  aiid 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR, 


851 


Before  that  last  weird  battle  in  tbe 

west 
There  came  on  Arthur  sleeping,  Gawain 

killM 
In  Lancelot's  war,  the  ghost  of  Qawain 

Dlown 
Along  a  wandering  wind,  and  past  his 

ear 
Went  shrilling  **  Hollow,  hollow  all  de- 
light ! 
Hail,  king  !  to-morrow  thou  shalt  pass 

away. 
Farewell !  there  is  an  isle  of  rest  for 

thee. 
And  I  am  blown  along  a  wandering 

wind, 
And  hollow,  hollow,  hollow  all  de- 
light." 
And  fainter  onward,  like  wild  birds 

that  change 
Their  season  in  the  night  and  wail  their 

way 
From  cloud  to  cloud,  down  the  long 

wind  the  lUeain 
ShriU'd ;  but  in  going  mingled  with  dim 

cries 
Far  in  the  moonlit  haze  among  the  hills. 
As  of  some  lonely  city  sack'a  by  night, 
When  all  is  lost,  and  wife  and  child 

with  wail 
Pass  to  new  lords ;  and  Arthur  woke 

and  call'd, 
**  Who  spake?  A  dream.  O  light  upon 

the  wind. 
Thine,  Gawain,  was  the  voice— are 

these  dim  cries 
Thine?  or  doth  all  that  haunts  the 

waste  and  wild 
Mourn,  knowing  it  will  go  along  with 

me?" 

This  heard  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere  and 

spake : 
•*  O  me,  my  king,  let  pass  whatever  will, 
Elves,  and  the  narmless  glamour  of  the 

field: 
But  in  their  stead  thy  name  and  glory 

cling 
To  all  high  places  like  a  golden  cloud 
For'ever  :  but  as  yet  thou  shalt  not  pass. 
Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light  in 

death 
Is  Gawain,  for  the  ghost  is  as  the  man; 
And  care  not  thou  for  dreams  from 

him,  but  rise — 
I  hear  the  steps  of  Modred  in  the  west. 
And  with  him  many  of  thy  people  and 

knights 
Once  thine,  whom  thou  hast  loved,  but 

grosser  grown 
Than  lieathen,  spitting  at  their  vows 

and  thee. 
Bight  well  in  heart  they  know  thee  for 

the  kinff. 
Arise,  go  forth  and  conquer  as  of  old." 

Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedi- 
vere : 
•*  Far  other  is  this  battle  in  the  west 
Whereto  we  move,  than  when  we  strove 
in  youth, 


And  thrust  the  heathen  from  the  Roman 

wall, 
And  shook  him  thro*  the  north.    Ill 

doom  is  mine 
To  war  against  my  people  and  my 

knights. 
The  king  who  fights  his  people  fights 

himself. 
And  they  my  knights,  who  loved  me 

once,  the  stroke 
That  sti-ikes  them  dead  is  as  my  death 

to  mo. 
Yet  let  us  hence,  and  find  or  feel  away 
Thro'  this  blind  haze,  which  ever  since 

I  saw 
One  lying  in  the  dust  at  Almesbury, 
Hath  folded  in  the  passes  of  the  worlu." 

Then  rose  the  king  and  moved  his 

host  by  night. 
And  ever  push'd  Sir  Modred,  league  by 

league, 
Back  to  tlie  sunset  bound  of  Lyon- 

nesse— 
A  land  of  old  upheaven  from  the  abyss 
By  tire,  to  sink  into  the  abyss  again  ; 
Where  fragments  of  forgotten  peoples 

dwelt, 
And  the  long  mountains  ended  in  a 

coast 
Of  ever-shifting  sand,  and  far  away 
The  phantom  circle  of  a  moaning  sea. 
There  tlie  puisuer  could  pursue  no 

more. 
And  he  that  fied  no  further  fly  the 

king ; 
And  there,  that  day  when  the  groat 

light  of  heaven 
Bum'd  at  his  lowest  in  the  rolling  year, 
On  the  waste  sand  by  the  wasie  sea 

they  closed. 
Nor  ever  yet  had  Arthur  fought  a  fight 
Like  this  last,  dim,  weird  battle  of  the 

west. 
A  death  white  mist  slept  over  sand  and 

sea: 
Whereof  the  chill,  to  him  who  breathed 

it,  drew 
Down  with  his  blood,  till  all  his  heart 

was  cold 
With  formless  fear :  and  ev'n  on  Arthur 

fell 
Confusion,  since  he  saw  not  whom  he 

fought, 
For  f liend  and  foe  were  shadows  in  the 

mist. 
And  filend  slew  friend  not  knowing 

whom  lie  slew ; 
And  some  had  visions  out  of  golden 

youth. 
And  some  beheld  the  faces  of  old  ghosts 
Iwook  in  upon  the  battle ;  and  in  the  mist 
Was  many  a  noble  deed,  many  a  base. 
And  chance  and  craft  and  strength  in 

single  fights. 
And  ever  and  anon  with  host  to  host 
Shocks,  and  the  splintering  spear,  the 

hard  mail  hewn. 
Shield-breakings,   and   the    clash    ol 

brands^  the  cra&bL 


^^^■1 


TBE  PASSING  OF  AtiTHCR. 


OlbnlLl^aies  on  aliattar'd  heli 

IllrieUa 
AlWrilie  Clirl»l,  ol 

Looknl  up  for  heaTOi 

moiietrous  bloi- 
SweM.  wiitblnj!!,  aiigulBb,  laboriug  o[ 
lu  thai;  cloui  mist,  mid  ccjlnga  toi  tlia 
Moaiui  of  the  iljliiB,  ana  v(d««  of  Uio 
Lott,  na  br  toma  one  iloaLh-bcJ  after 
0(  fttRering,  Bllauee  tollowg,  or  ILio' 


Ot  daatblike  ■wonn,  Urns  o' 
Srvo  for  lomo  nLispci  of  U 


mlltti 


tblng 

A.  dHa'nuuli  fell  ;  bat  wbBn  tho  dolor- 

Graw  drearier  biwiid  twlllgbt  foiling, 

A  Idtter  wind,  clear  from  tho  Xorth, 

and  bleiT 
The  mill  uldo,  Slid  irltb  that  nind  the 


■nycrTorChrlitUT 

Brake  In  amonedead  tacea,  to  Bud  fro 
Swaying  the  helpleu  baud*,  and  up  and 

Tomblhie  tlie  hollow  helmets,  of  tba 

And  ahlTer'd  brands  that   once  bad 

touglit  with  Rome, 
And  roltlng  f  nr  aknig  the  gloomy  stiorea 

I      Then   ipalto  King   Arthur   to    Sir 
Aud  wbltec  tbon  the  mlsttliat  all  day 
Hcd  bald  the  Hold  of  battle  van  ilie 
aou  thlB 


Hcarcst  thou  this  great 


1  realm  vbere- 


O  Badlyere,  for  on  my  heart  haUi  f  aU'n 


.fusion,  till  I  kUDirnc 


King  eTerywhere  I   uid  lo  tba  dead 

There  also  wllffvoiahip  tliee  ai  Wng- 

Yet  Btill  thy  life  is  whole,  and  ttiia 

Wbolovo  thee  ;  but  wLo  hata  tbe^ 
The  boaUieci  back  tHDOiig  iu>.  yonder 
Modreit.  uidiann'd,  tho  Iralior  of  thine 


Then  enake  the   Iilug;"Mr  bona* 
thou   tliia  tiallor  ot  nij 

My  bouae  ore  raUier  tliej  vbo  await 

my  vowB, 
lea,  oTOn   while    Ihoy  brake  them. 

And  well  fur  tliee,  aaying  Ui  017  dark 

lun  all  the   DUrport  of  my 

■,{;■■"'■"■'■-- 


k  or  dead  thou  iK^ldoal  mafar 


ngaml,  whatWBTorlia  Uiclrtry: 
iiToiie  lastactofkiiighooUalialiaiiia 


'   the  k£g 


And  Dlierlug  Ibti 
ilien  Modred  unale 
nard   OK    tbat   helm   which  many  a 


So  all  da' 
roU'il 

rulll'Klng 


1  all  but  alaiu  hii[uelt,lui 

long  tbo  nolle  of  battk 
loDntaina  by  llio  nliiler 
ArUinr'a  Table,  man  by 

Tlion.bt'canaohlxiuimd 
lodlTtra  iipllfltrd  bim, 


Then  spoke  Elng  ArtliurtoSlrBadt 

'  Tbo  aequcl  of  lo-day  unMden  nil 
rha   aoodlleai  (ailowalilp  vt    laiuuua 

i^'hareof  OilB  worUbolila  rscoiiL  Sucli 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR, 


85S 


oniey  sleep— the  men  I  loved.    I  think 

that  we 
Shall  never  more,  at  any  future  time, 
Delight  our  souls  with  talk  o£  knightly 

deeds. 
Walking  about  the  gardens  and  the 

h^ls 
Of  Camelot,  as  in  the  days  that  were. 
Iperish  by  this  people  which  I  made,— 
Tno'  Merlin  sware  that  1  should  come 

again 
To  rule  once  more ;  but  let  what  will 

be,  be. 
I  am  so  deeply  smitten  thro*  the  helm 
That  without  help  I  cannot  last  till 

mom. 
Thou  therefore  take  my  brand  Excali- 

bur, 
^Hiich  was  my  pride :  for  thou  remem- 

berest  how 
In  those  old  days,  one  summer  noon, 

an  arm 
Bose  up  from  out  the  bosom  pf  the  lake, 
CloUied  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wou- 

ful, 
Holding  the  sword— and  how  I  row'd 

across 
And  took  it,  and  have  worn  it,  like  a 

king; 
And,  wheresoever  I  am  sung  or  told 
In  aftertime,  this  also  shall  be  known : 
But  now  delay  not :  take  Excalibur, 
And  fling  him  far  into  the  middle 

mere : 
Watch  what  thou  se^t,  and  lightly 

bring  me  word." 

To  him  replied  the  bold  Sir  Bcdi- 

vere : 
**  It  is  not  meet,  Sir  King,  to  leave  thee 

thus. 
Aidless,  alone,  and  smitten  thro'  the 

helm— 
A  little  tiling  may  harm  a  wounded 

man; 
Yet  I  thy  hest  will  all  perform  at  full, 
Watch  what  I  see,  and  lightly  bring 

thee  word." 

So  saying,  from  the  ruin*d  shrine  he 
stept, 

And  in  the  moon  athwart  the  place  of 
tombs. 

Where  lay  the  mighty  bones  of  ancient 
men, 

Old  knights,  and  over  them  the  sea- 
wind  sang 

Shrill,  chill  witii  flakes  of  foam.  He, 
stepping  down 

By  zigzag  paths,  and  juts  of  pointed 
rock. 

Came  on  tne  shining  levels  of  the  lake. 

There  drew  he  forth  the  brand  Ex- 
calibur, 

And  o'er  him,  drawing  it,  the  winter 
moon, 

Brightening  the  skirts  of  a  long  cloud, 
ran  forth 

Axid  sparkled  keen  with  fiost  against 
fiiehUt: 


For  all  the  haft  twinkled  with  diamond 

sparks. 

Myriads  of  topaz-lights,  and  jacinth- 
work 
Of  subtlest  jewelry.    He  gazed  so  long 
That  both  lus  eyes  were  dazzled  as  he 

stood. 
This  way  and  that  dividing  the  swif6 

mmd. 
In  act  to  throw :  but  at  the  last  it 

seem'd 
Better  to  leave  Excalibur  conceai'd 
There  in  the  many-knotted  waterflags, 
That  whistled  stin  and  dry  about  the 

marge. 
So  strode  he  back  slow  to  the  wounded 

King. 

Then  spake  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Bedi- 

vere : 
"  Hast  thou  perform'd  my  mission 

which  I  gave  ? 
What  is  it  thou  has  seen?  or  what  hast 

heard?" 

And  answer  made  the  bold  Sir  Bedi- 

verc : 
"I  heard  the  ripple  washing  in  the 

reeds, 
And  the  wild  water  lapping  on  the 

crag." 

To  whom  replied  King  Arthur,  faint 

and  pale : 
''Thou  hast  betray'd  thy  nature  and 

thy  name, 
Not  rendering  true  answer,   as  be- 
seemed 
Thy  fealty,  nor  like  a  noble  knight : 
For  surer  sign  had  followed,  either 

hand. 
Or  voice,  or  else  a  motion  of  the  mere. 
This  is  a  shameful  tiling  for  men  to 

lie. 
Yet  now,  I  charge  thee,  quickly  go 

again. 
As  thou  art  lief  and  dear,  and  do  the 

thing 
I  bade  thee,  watch,  and  lightly  bring 

me  word." 

Then  went  Sir  Bedivere  the  second 

time 
Across  the  ridge,  and  paced  beside  the 

mere, 
Counting  the  dewy  pebbles,  fix*d  in 

thouffht ; 
But  when  ne  saw  the  wonder  of  the 

hilt, 
How  curiously  and  strangely  chased, 

he  smote 
His  palms  together,  and    he  cried 

aloud: 

''And  if  indeed  I  cast  the  brand 

away, 
Surely  a  precious  thing,  one  worthy 

note. 
Should  tluis  be  lost  for  ever  from  tho 

earth. 


w^ 


S54  THE  PASSING 

WHdx  mlgbt  liava  pleued  (be  ey. 
What  good  ahould  foUov  Uili,  If 


KinsliiaiGk 


Wlist  reoord,  or  what  rsllo  of  m7  Ion 
StiouJd  ba   to  >fur[im«,  but  eiaplj 

bnath 
And  nimon  of  a  doubt?    But  wen 

Iblx  kflpt. 
Stored    iu    aoniB    treaauie-honsa    u. 

Some  one  tnlglit'^iow  it  at  u  joUBt  o. 

Sayliis,  ■  idng  Aitliur'a  Bword,  Eicalj. 

VroUKht  by  tho  lonely  nudden  of  th< 

Nine  yeara  ilie  wrouglit  It,  Bitting  li 

the  deep* 
Upon  the  Mdden  I 


To  bU  the  people,  wiiin 


IllllB.- 


Bo  Bpake  ho,  oloiided  wltli  Ijia  ovni 

And  lilil  En^allbnr  thB  Bocond  Hme, 
And  BO  strode  bud:  Blow  to  l^e  woiuideil 

Then  Bpoke  King  Arthur,  hraathlng 

heavily  ; 

"  WhatisiCUioa  haat  Beeujoiwhat 

huai  heard?" 

And  RiiBWor  tojido  Ihe  bold  Sk  Bedl- 

"  I  heard  the  water  lapping  on   the 

And  Ujo  Jong  ripple  ^aflliiiig  In  tho 

To  nhom  replied  King  Aithnr,  innch 


w'd  the  will,    lee 
iu,  Die    lateBt-left  o: 


I  ray 


In  whuQi  BhOBldnieel  theomvesot  nil, 
Tliou  wouldst  betray  luH  toclliepre- 

cioUB  Ult ; 
Either  from  lust  of  gold,  or  like  a  girl 
Valuing  the  Elddypleaflure  of  theoyoB. 
Yet.  tor  a  man  way  fall  In  duty  twice, 
Aud  the  third  time  May  prosper,  gat 


1  Bat,  U 


■ji  fling  EicrtttiMT, 


Tbetx  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedlteri 

And  leipiiia  dijwn  the  ridges  Hghilj.. 

Amotig  the  balnuh-bedB,  and  ciutch'd 

And  strongly  wheel'd  and  threw  iu 

The  great  braml 
Made  Ughtuliigs  Iu  the  spleudor  <tf  ilio 


Seen  where  the  moving  Istea  of  winiet 
By  night,  with  noises  of  Ibo  northttu 


Clotberi  in  white  Bamlle,  myatlc,  won. 

derful, 
"L,  Bndbfaii- 


Aud  lightly  went  the  other  to  Uie  KlAS. 

Then  spoke  King  Arthur,  dcaalOC 
till  Aer  brealE  r 


)  eyes  that  th»U 
;  what  la  It  thou  itut  ti«ud| 


And  nnswer  made  the  boUsLr  Iiaitt- 

"  Sir  KDig,"  I  dosed  ralua  eyelids,  IM 

Sliould  blfiid  my  purpoae,  for  I  naTcr, 

Nor  Bhnll  sec,  here  or  cIbcwIibtc.  iSU  I 

Not  tho'  I  lire  three  Uyos  of  aoiul 

So  great  a  mitaele  as  yonder  kJlt. 
Thwi  wUk  both  hnuds  1  liuiig  Ulm, 

wheeiliiB  him  ; 
But  wheu  I  look'd  ag^i,  beheU  *a 

Clothed  III  white  lamite,  myallc,  won- 
derful, ' 
ITiat  CBugli  t  him  by  the  hilt,  una  boih. 


And    answer    made    King  Arthur, 
breathing  hard  ; 
"My  end  draws  uigb;  't  Utlmetkatt 

Moke  brood  thy  Bhouldon  to  tecelT* 

my  weight. 
Andheiir  me  lolheniargli  ;  yettfi!*r 
Uy  wound  hath  Uikan  sold,  and  t  lltUI 


THE  PASSING  OF  ARTHUR. 


So  saying,  from  the  pavement  he 
half  rose. 
Slowly,  with  pain,  reclining  on  his  arm. 
And  looking  wistfully  witn  wide  blue 

eyes 
As  in  a  picture.    Him  Sir  Bedivere 
Bemorsef  ally  regarded  thro'  his  tears, 
And  would  have  spoken,  but  he  found 

not  words ; 
Then  took  with  care,  and  kneeling  on 

one  knee, 
0*er  both  his  shoulders  drew  the  lan- 
guid hands. 
And  rising  bore  him  thro'  the  place  of 
tombs. 

But,  as  he  walk'd,  King  Arthur  panted 

hard. 
Uke  one  tnat  feels  ar  nightmare  on  his 

bed 
"When  all  the  house  is  mute.    So  slgh'd 

the  King, 
Muttering  and  murmuring  at  his  ear 

"  Quick,  quick  ! 
I  fear  it  is  too  late,  and  I  shall  die." 
But  the  other  swiftly  strode  from  ridge 

to  ridge, 
Cloth'd  with  his  breath,  and  looking,  as 

he  walk'd, 
Lareer  than  human  on  the  frozen  hills. 
He  lieard  the  deep  behind  him,  and  a 

cry 
Before.    His  own  thought  drove  him 

like  a  goad. 
Dry  clash'd  his  harness  in  the  icy 

caves 
And  barren  chasms,  and  all  to  left  and 

right 
The  bare  black  cllif  clang'd  round  him, 

as  he  based 
His  feet  on  Juts  of  slippery  crag  that 

rang 
Shar2>-smTtten  with  the  dint  of  armed 

heels — 
And  on  a  sudden,  lo  !  the  level  lake. 
And    the  long  glories  of  the  winter 

moon. 

Then  saw  they  how  there    hove  a 

dusky  bargo, 
Dark  as  a  funeral  scarf  from  stem  to 

stern, 
Beneath  them ;  and  descending  they 

were  ware 
That  all  the  decks  were  dense  with 

stately  forms, 
Black-stoled,    black-hooded,     like    a 

dream— by  these 
Three  Queens  with  crowns  of  gold: 

and  from  them  rose 
A  ?ry  that  shiver'd  to  the  tingling  stars, 
And,  as  it  were  one  voice,  and  agony 
Of  lamentation,  like  a  wind  that  shrills 
All  night  in  a  waste  land,  where  no 

one  comes. 
Or  hath  come;  since  the  making  of  the 

world. 


Then  murmur'd  Arthur,  •*  Place  me 
in  the  barge ; 


855 
There 


»» 


So  to  the  barge  they  came. 

those  three  Queens 
Put  forth   their  hands,  and  took  the 

Kinff,  and  wept. 
But  she,  that  rose  the  tallest  of  them 

all 
And  fairest,  laid  his  head  upon  her  lap. 
And  loosed  the  shatter'd  casque,  and 

chafed  his  hands. 
And  call'd  him  by  his  name,  complain- 
ing loud. 
And  dropping  bitter  tears  against  his 

brow 
Striped  with  dark  blood :  for  all  hii 

face  was  white 
And  colorless,  and  like  the  wither'd 

moon 
Smote  by  the  fresh  beam  of  the  sprhig- 

inff  east : 
And  all  Ills  greaves  and  cuisses  dash'd 

with  drops 
Of  onset :  and  the  light  and  lustrous 

curls— 
That  made  his  forehead  like  a  rising 

sun 
High     from    the     daYs-throne — were 

parchM  with  dust ; 
Or,  clotted  into  points  and  hanging 

loose, 
Mix'd  with  the  knightly  growth  that 

fringed  his  lips. 
So  like  a  shatter'd  column  lay  the 

King; 
Not  like  that  Arthur  who,  with  lance 

in  rest. 
From  spur  to  plume  a  star  of  tourna- 
ment. 
Shot  thro'  the  lists  at  Camelot,  and 

charged 
Before  the  eyes  of  ladies  and  of  kings. 

Then  loudly  cried  the  bold  Sir  Bedi- 

vere: 
<'  Ah !  my  Lord  Arthur,  whither  shall 

I  go? 
Where  shall  I  hide  my  forehead  and 

my  eyes  ? 
For  now  I  see  the  true  old  times  are 

dead, 
When  every  miming  brought  a  noble 

chance, 
And  every  chance  brought  out  a  noble 

knight. 
Such  times  have  been  not  since  the 

light  that  led 
The  holy  Elders  with  the  gift  of  myrrh. 
But  now  the  whole  Hound  Table  is  dis- 
solved 
Which  was  an  image  of  the  mighty 

world ; 
And  I,  the  last,  go  forth  companionless, 
And  the  days  darken  round  me,  and 

the  years, 
Among  new  men,  strange  faces,  other 

minds." 

And  slowly  answered  Arthur  from 
the  barge  : 
<'  The  old  order    changeth,   yielding 
place  to  new, 


r 


IPV 


THE  VOICE  AND  TEE  PEAK. 


11  tiioa  Bhauldit  n 


0,  let 


uaulu  for  me  lllehl  anil 
ur  what  ara  men  botter  Ihan  absep  or 
Tlwt  nouriah  a  blind  Ufa  irlUila  tbe 
■     i". 

ii>g  Qod,  the;  lift  not  Lands 

BoUl  ior  tbomaalTeg  and  thcua  who 

call  Iliem  trleiHl  ? 
For  ta  tbs  wliolo  rouud  eattb  is  every 

Bound  by  gold  cbaliia  about  the  feet 

'  FaHwell.    I  am  Eolng  a  long 

Bel^t— If  liuleei 


(For  all  IT 


A  IB  tloaded  wiUi  i 
^vUlou  1 


Wliere  fall*  not  hail,  or  r 

'  ever  viiid  blows  loudly  -,  but 
lies 
Deep-meado«'d,    bappy,    fair     wl 

And   Iwwery   Iiollowa   crown'd  wl 

Wliaru  I  will  heoJ  me  of  my  grteTc 


Sogsldbc 


10  barge  witb  oar 
nk,  like  aomo  full- 


RnSea  her  ptico  cold  plume,  and  takes 

the  flood 
ynOi  Bwarthy  weba.     Long  Blood  Sir 


k 

d 


3  walling  died 


slowly  clonib 
The  luat  liaidfootBtop  of  l.li 
TheuGO  mark'd  the  black 

yel  mid  eiied. 


% 


cornea  ag^n  ;  but— If  ho  Co. 
le.  be  you  d>Tli  Queeiu  In  yon 

0  Bbriflfd  and  wnird,   ilio 

tlmi  high  day,  wheii,  clolhod 

llrtne  JlElil, 
ty  sUKKlbeiDco  hia  throne  in  >1 


Then  from  tbe  dawn  it  nem'a 
enme,  but  taint 
As  from  beyond  the  limit  of  lbs  « 
Like  the  la«c  eclio  bom  of  a  great 
Sounds,  ns  if  Bome  fair  city  were 

Arounil  a  king    returning  fiom  Li> 

Theteat  once  more  be  moTed  about, 
and  i-lomb 
E'en  to  tbe  highest  ho  could  ellmb^anl 

Straiiiiiig  his  eyes  boncalh  an  arch  et 

hand. 
Or  thought  he  saw,  the  apeck  that  b«M 

the  king. 
Down  that  long  water  openlug  ou  tlia 

Somewliero  far  off,  pa«»  on,  and  oa. 

From  leas  w  leaa  and  vani-ih  Inin  ligbC 


waatonaof  Iho  three. 
Klghtlngalea  sang  tn  hlB  irooda  : 
Ttio  Muter  vu  tkt  nway  : 
Nlslitl  11  galea  worblcil  niiil  aang 
Of  n  pBBaion  that  laalx  but  a  da« 
StiU  in  tlie  honae  In  liis  colQn ' 

of  eourtesy  lay. 
Two  dead  men  hare  I  known 


With  a  love  that  ever  will  be : 

Xhrcadead  men  have  I  loved,  ai 

art  iBit  ot  tbe  ihiee. 


LB  lone  ^ 
^on-ruHk] 


Oreon-rudilnglronitborua/  ihroMid 


TO  THE  QUEEN. 


867 


All  iiight  have  I  hoard  the  voice 
Bave  over  the  rocky  bar, 
But  thou  wert  silent  in  heaven, 
Above  thee  glided  the  star. 

Hast  thou  no  voice,  O  Peak, 
That  standest  high  above  all  ? 
•*  1  am  the  voice  of  the  Peak, 
I  roar  and  rave  for  1  fall. 

*'  A  thousand  voices  go 
To  North,  South,  East  and  West, 
They  leave  the  heights  and  are  trou- 
bled. 
And  moan  and  sink  to  their  rest. 

"  The  fields  are  fair  beside  them. 
The  chestnut  towers  in  his  bloom  ; 
But  they— they  feel  the  desire  of  the 

deep- 
Fall,  and  follow  their  doom. 

"  The  deep  has  power  on  the  height, 
And  the  height  nas  power  on  the  deep; 
Thev  are  raised  for  ever  and  ever, 
And  sink  again  into  sleep,** 

Not  raised  for  ever  and  ever. 

But  when  their  cycle  is  o'er, 

The  valley,  the  voice,  the  peak,  the 

star. 
Pass,  and  are  found  no  more. 

The  Peak  is  high  and  flush'd 
At  his  highest  with  sunrise  fire  : 
The  peak  is  high,  and  the  stars  are  highi 
And  the  thought  of  a  man  is  higher. 

A  voice  below  the  voice, 
And  a  height  beyond  the  height 
Our  hearing  is  not  hearing. 
And  our  seeing  is  not  sight. 

The  voice  and  the  Peak 
Par  into  heaven  withdrawn. 
The  lone  glow  and  the  long  roar 
Green-rusoing  from  the  rosy  thrones 
of  dawul 


TO  THE  QUEEN.    • 

EPILOGUE  TO  THE  IDYLS. 

O  LOYAL  to  the  royal  in  thyself. 
And  loyal  to  thy  land,  as  this  to  thee— > 
Bear  witness,  that  rememberable  clav, 
When,  pale  as  yet,  and  fever-worn,  the 

Ptince 
Who  scarce  had  plnck'd  his  flickering 

life  again 
From  half-way  down  the  shadow  of  th» 

grave, 
Pait  ¥rith  thee  thro*  thy  people  ana 

their  love. 
And  London  roU'd  one  tide  of  Joy  thro* 

all 
Her  trebled  millions,  and  loud  leagues 

of  man 


And  welcome  I  witxtess,  too,  the  sileni 

cry. 
The  prayer  of  many  a  race  and  creed, 

and  clime— 
Thunderless  lightnings  striking  under 

sea 
From  sunset  and  sunrise  of  all  thy 

realm. 
And  that  true  North,  whereof  wo  lat^ 

ly  heard 
A  strain  to  shame  us  **  keep  you  to 

yourselves : 
So  loyal  is  too  costly!  friends— your 

love 
Is  but  a  burden  :  loose  the  bond,  and 


go 


>i 


Is  this  the  tone  of  empire  ?  here  the 

faith 
lliat  made  us  rulers  ?  this,  indeed,  her 

voice 
And  meaning,  whom  the  roar  of  Hou- 

goumont 
Left  mightiest  of  all  peoples  under 

heaven  ? 
What  shock  has  foord  her  since,  that 

she  should  speak 
So  feebly  ?  wealthier— wealthier— hour 

bv  hour ! 
The  voice  of  Britain,  or  a  sinking  land. 
Some  third-rate  isle  half- lost  among 

her  seas? 
There  rang  her  voice,  when  the  full 

city  peal'd 
Thee  aim  thy  Prince!  The  loyal  to  their 

crown 
Are  loyal  to  their  own  far  sons,  who 

love 
Our  ocean-empire  with  her  boundless 

homes 
For  ever-broadening  England,  and  her 

throne 
In  our  vast  Orient,  and  one  isle,  one  isle. 
That  knows  not  her  own  greatness  :  if 

she  knows 
And  dreads  it  we  are  falPn. ^But 

thou,  my  Queen, 
Not  for  itself,  but  thro*  thy  living  love 
For  one  to  whom  I  made  it  o'er  his 

grave 
Sacred,  accept  this  old  Imperfect  tale. 
New-old,  and  shadowing  Sense  at  war 

with  Soul 
Rather  than  that  gray  king,  whose 

name,  a  ghost 
Streams  like  a  cloud,  man-shaped,  from 

mountain  peak. 
And  cleaves  to  calm  and  cromlech 

still :  or  him 
Of  Geoffrey's  book,  or  him  of  Malleor's, 

one 
Touch'd  by  the  adulterous  finger  of  a 

time 
That  hover*d  between  war  and  wanton* 


ness, 

ngs  i 
take  withal 


And  crownines  and  dethronements : 


The  poet's  blessing,  and  his  trust  that; 

Heaven 
Will  blow  the  tempest  in  the  distance 

back 


J 


wmrmm 


\ 


n 


I 


Fiom  Uilne  and  oun  :  for  lome 

cruel,  wliujnark, 
Or  witely  ot  uuivl*Jy,  sign*  of  « 


856     J  lF£iC0.1fA'  rO  THE  DUKE  OF  EDlL<nVRUB. 

nd  all   the   sultry   polma  et   IndU 

Aleiand  10X111. 

Uii  enpes  ol  Aflio  ns  oii    h\Ss  of 

Tbe  Man^a  aud  that  Islo  of  Conll- 

Marie-A  leiondioviit. 


And  voriiy  trackUjiga  to  Uie  tranAifiut 
And  Berco  or  r>aieleu  looscnen  of  tlie 
Aiiil  Softiieu  bieedii^g  Bcom  of  Binijils 
Oi  Cowaidlee,  tlis  child  of  lust  fat 


Ot  Art, 

And  that  which  knows,  but  rueful  fur 

And  ihM  which  knotra  not,  ruling  Ihitt 

whleU  knows 
XoltB  (mnhami;  the  goalof  IJila  great 

Lies  Iwyond  rielit :  yol— If  our  slowlj- 

Aud  crown'il  Itepubllc'suroniilng  com- 

Thftt  sared  her  muiy  tlmea,  iiot  fall— 

AtB  nioniinB  shadows  huger  Ibon  llie 

gloomier 

The  darki 


whloli  forego 

Arkueuoftbat 

Vhere  all  oC  high  ai 


Uoly  Jl 


A  WELCOJfE  TO  THE  DUKE  AXl 

DUCHESS  OF  EDIKBUKGU. 


The  Son  of  him  with  whoir 


Who  ma; 
Has  give 


ilr  Prince  his  01 


And  welcome,  Husslsii  llowet,  a  pen- 
To  Britain,  wlien  lier  fiowon  boL'lii 
loblowl 
From  lovo  to  Iotc.  from  boms  to  honie 

From    mothar  unto  molher,    alitely 
bride, 

Mnrle-Alci  audro  vna. 

The  gnlrten  netts  nlons  Iho  steppes  la 
And  at  ihy  name  lbs  Tarlat  tents 


,^ 


Fair  emptrei  broncliing,  both,  In  loitj 

Tct  Harold's  England  tell  (o  KonsMV 

Yet  tblno  own  land  has  bow'J  Id 
Tartar  honies 
Since  English  Harold  gsvo  Iia  tbiniie  % 

Alesaiirtrovns. 
For  thrones  and  peoples  ore  ns  vidll 

And  lloal  or  ^!q,  In  eiidleas  ebb  tnd 

But  who  love  best  liaro   b«t  Iho 

That  Love  by  right  divine 


QUEEN  MARY. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONA!:. 


?n«ei  Mary, 
hilip,  JCina  rf  Naples  and  Sicily,  of- 
ter^tHvrtU  JCinff  of  Spain, 

The  PrincoM  EHT'abeth. 

Reginald  Pole,  Cardiual  and  Papal  Le- 
gato. 

Simon  Kenard,  Spanish  Ambassador, 

IjO  Sieur  de  Noailles,  French  Ambassa- 
dor, 

Thomas  Cranmer,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury. 

Sir  Nicholas  Heath,  Archbishop  of 
York  ;  Lord  Chancellor  after  Gai- 
diner. 

Edward  Courtenay,  Earl  of  Devon, 

JLord  William  Howaril,  nftrrtpards  Lord 
Howard  awl  Lord  High  Admiral. 

Ix>rd  Williams  of  Thame. 

Lord  Paget. 

I^rd  Petre. 

Stephen  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winches- 
ter and  Lord  Chancellor. 

Edmund  Bonner,  Bisliop  ry  London, 

Thomas  Thirlby,  Bishop  o/Ely. 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt,   I   Insurrectionary 

Sir  Thomas  Staffonl ) 


leaders. 


Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall. 
Sir  Robert  Southwell- 
Sir  Henry  Redingtield. 
Sir  William  Gecit 


Sir  Thomas  White,  Ijord  Mayor  of  lAm 

don. 
The  Duke  of  Alva,    ^     Attewling  on 
The  Count  de  Feria, )  Philip, 

Peter  Martyr. 
Father  Cole. 
Father  Bourne. 
Villa  Garcia. 
Soto. 

AnCy  K^^kt,  \  ^^herenU,  o/  Wuatt, 

Peters,  Gcni/emawn/' Lord  Howard. 
Roger,  Servant  to  Noailles. 
William,  Servant  to  Wyatt. 
Steward  of  Household  to  the  Princess 
Old  Nokes  and  Nokes.         (Elizabeth. 
Marchioness    of    Exeter,  Mother    of 

Courtenay. 
Lady  Clarence,  )    Ladies  in 

Lady  Magdalen  Dacres,   [■  waiting  to 
Alice,  J    the  Qvieen 

Maid  of  Honor  to  the  Princess  Eliza- 

^^*"' }  Tioo  Country  Wives,       l^^^- 

Lords  and  other  Attendants,  Members 
of  the  Privy  Council,  Members  of 
Parliament,  two  Gentlemen,  Alder- 
men, Citizens,  Peasants,  Ushers, 
Messengers,  Guards,  Pages,  &c. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  T.— -Aldgate  ricfUy  decorated. 
Crowd.    Marshalmen. 

Marshalman,  Stand  back,  keep  a 
clear  lane.  When  will  her  Majesty 
pass,  sayst  thou  ?  why  now,  even  now ; 
wherefore  draw  back  your  heads  and 
your  horns  before  I  break  them,  and 
make  what  noise  you  will  with  your 
tongues,  so  it  be  not  treason.  Long 
live  Queen  Mary,  the  lawful  and  leffitt 
mate  daughter  of  Harry  the  Eighth. 
Shout,  knaves ! 

Citizens.    Long  live  Queen  Mary  ! 

1  at.  lliat's  a  hard  word,  legiti- 
mate; what  does  it  mean  ? 

2  at.    It  means  a  bastard* 

3  CU.    Nay,  it  means  true-bom, 

1  at.  Why,  didn't  the  ParUament 
make  her  a  bastard  ?  [beth. 

2  at.    No  \   it  was  the  lady  Eliza- 


3  at.  That  was  after,  man;'  that 
was  after. 

1  at.    Then  which  is  the  bastard  ? 

2  at.  Troth,  they  be  both  bastards 
by  Act  of  Parliament  and  Council. 

3  at.  Ay.  the  Parliament  can  make 
every  true-born  man  of  us  a  bastard. 
Old  rfokes,  can*t  it  make  thee  a  bas- 
tard? thou  shouldst  know,  for  thou 
art  as  white  as  tliree  Christmasses. 

O.  Nokes  (dreamily).  Who*s  a-pass- 
ing?  King  Edward  or  King  lUch- 
ard? 

3  at.    No,  old  Nokes. 

O,  Nokes.    It's  Harry! 

3  at.    It's  Queen  Mary. 

O,  Nokes*  The  blessed  Mary's  a-pass- 
ing  !  [Falls  on  his  knees, 

Nokes.  Let  father  alone,  my  mas- 
ters !  he's  past  your  questioning. 

3  at.  Answer  thou  for  him,  then  I 
thou  furt  no  such  cockerel  thyself^  £ac 


r 


MP 


seo 


QUEEN  MARY. 


IS  tmi  ol  old 


WM  bom  r  Ibe  loll  onil  ot  old 

HuTjr  Uifl  Boyenth. 

Nnliet.  EUI  tlinlwiiibcrorebiutiird- 
nukklug  ^gan.    1  WB9  bom  ' 

Kbit?,  and  H  they  cou't  maka 

3  CiC  But  If  FsrllBment  am  malce 
ID  Queens  bMlsnl,  vby, It followenll 
IB  more  IbM  Hibv  rnii  niaka  Ihee  ouo, 

..hoarolraj'ciruioknea?  i""!  ""f  n* 

olbo«'«,  ond  bold  o'  tbe  bi 


Q-  uiBuwKjnndbont- 

iddowiittliioeta. 

liaktt.    1  wm  born  at  a  truo  man 
'  a  rtng'd  «!Ie,  uid  I  can't  arsno 


lyold  won 
What  BTB  -jaa  e 


ji[K.n  It 

ling  o[  baitattly , 

-  -BO?  I'll  liBTB  you  flngg'd  and  burnt 

iVlr.     Ho    bwcan'by   Uio    Kood. 
Whewt 
2  Clt.    Hark  I  tha  trnnipeU. 
[  The  proffiiion  paiiri,  Mary  ami 
EllzabeUi  riditig  lide  bu  aide,  and 
iliiappeart  uhUct  the  ffhie. 
ntiami.      LonE  lire  Queen  Mary  I 
..owuwltbillliariorgl    UodiaTeHer 
finut  i  lad  deatb  to  NorUtumberlBiid  t 

{£!«»(. 

STanrnt  Two  Gentlemen. 
I  Cent    By  Ood'sUfibittuoblocrBii- 
iro.  right  roToL 

ry  tOKlBy ;  ' 


M  who  renorted  it)  thatdie 

..-jenal  Wftn»tBad  wiib  five 

hundred  iorw,  and  the  Qu«ai  (tbo- 
sonie  tny  they  be  nineh  dlrldedl  took 
horhand,  calL'd  horBwcct  slaWr,  and 
kin'd  not  Iter  alone,  but  all  Ibe  ladies 
oljior  (ollowJuB. 

swUV 

iiiiBlilct  tbera        _   

for  one,  who  li  10  be  mads  Lotd  Chail' 
rellor,  and  idll  pounce  like  a  wild 
'  iitutt  out  of  his  cBflB  to  wonj  Cmnmer. 
1  Cmt  And  f urUujruiorB,  niy  danah- 
ei  mid  that  »ben  thero  nxe  a  talk  ol 
Jie  lolo  rebellion,  ahe  apoke  orcn  of 
HorlhumbsTlnnd  pitifully,  and  of  tlie 
cooil  iJUly  Jana  as  a  poor  Innoceul 
-'■"■■ -'lohad  but  obeyed  her  father; 

.hermore,  aba  Bald  Ihntnn  .mn 

In  hoc  timu  thould  be 

1    Gtat,      There  !•  I 
agidiut   Ibem.     1  kno 

■i  dm.    I  aupMne  yr 

Iha  niH'lil,  lias  offei'd  U 


Joy,  tliere  will  be  plenty  to  eu 


In  her  hour  o( 


It  for  h 


Ip,  tlio  pope  and  Lhe  Deril.    I  Inullt 

1.  Gent.  She  tl  going  now  1o  the 
Tower  to  loose  the  priioneia  there,  ami 
amouK  them  Couctenay.  to  be  mads 
£at  I  mT  Deroii,  of  royal  blood,  of  splen- 
did featun,  whom  tfie  council  and  ill 
her  people  idali  Ler  to  marry.  May  i: 
be  BO.  fur  ve  are  many  of  ni  Calholiri, 
but  few  Paplita,  and  the  Hoi  CogpcJ 
Icre  nill  go  mad  npon  It. 

2  Gnl.  Waa  Bhe  iiol  betrotli-d  In 
her  ludiyhocHl  to  the  Cinal  £nipei«i 
hiouclf. 

1  Omf.    Ay  butbQ'Btoooia. 

2  Gent.  And  again  to  lier  ceraiD 
Beeinald  Pole,  now  Cardinal,  bal  1 

broken  before  bU  day, 

1  Gent.  O,  lbs  Pope  conld  diinenig 
witlihli  Caidliislate,  and  bis  acWe. 
and  bis  breakiun,  it  tliat  were  all :  but 
will  yon  not  follow  the  procewion  ? 

2  Oait.  No;  Iliareseenenuughfoc 
thlH  day. 

1  Oent.  Well.  I  ahall  follow :  if  I 
call  get  near  enough  I  slinl!  Judge  afOl 
Tiy  omi  eyes  whelliHr  Hcc  tirace  in- 
-line to  tMs  Bpleudld  Bciun  i.t  Flan- 

aLarabetbl 
:rr™.       -m     Bimaburji 
Frankfort,  Zurich,  W 


QUEEN  MARY, 


Kay,  for  bare  shame  of  inconsistency, 
She  cannot  pass  her  traitor  council  by, 
To  maJke  me  headless. 

Mart.    That  might  be  forgiven. 
I  tell  you,  Hy,  my  Lord,    x  ou  do  not 

own 
The  bodily  presence  in  the  Eucharist. 
Their  wafer  and  perpetual  sacrihce* 
Your  creed  will  be  your  death. 

Cran,  Step  after  step, 

Thro*  many  voices  crying  right  and 

left,  [church. 

Have  I  climbM  back  into  the  primal 
And  stand  within  the  porch,  and  Christ 

with  me:  [faith. 

My  flight  were  such  a  scandal  to  the 
The  downfall  of  so  many  simple  souls, 
I  dare  not  leave  my  post. 

MarU  But  you  divorced 

Queen  Catharine  and  her  father;  hence, 

her  hate 
Will  burn  till  you  are  bum*d. 

Cran,  I  cannot  help  it. 

The  Canonists  and  Schoolmen   were 

with  me. 
•*Thou  Shalt  not  wed  thy  brother's 

wife.*'—  'Tis  written, 
*•  They  shall  be  childless."  True,  Mary 

was  bom,  [a  bride 

But  France  would  not  accept  her  for 
As  being  born  from  incest;  and  this 

wrought  [you  know, 

Upon  the  king;  and  child  by  child, 
were    momentary  sparkles    out    as 

quick  [his  doubts 

Almost  as  kindled  ;  and  ne  brought 
And  fears  to  me.    Peter,  I'll  swear  for 

him 
He  did  believe  the  bond  incestuous. 
But  wherefore  am  I  trenching  on  the 

time  [steps  a  mile 

That  should  already  have  seen  your 

From  mo  and  Lambeth  ?    God  be  with 

you !    Go 

Mart,    Ah,  but  how  fierce  a  letter 

you  wrote  against  [you 

Their  superstition  when  they  slandcr'd 
For  setting  u])  a  mass  at  Canterbury. 
To  please  the  Queen. 

Cran.     It  was  a  wheedling  monk 
Set  up  the  mass. 

Mart,     I  know  it,  my  good  Lord. 
But  you  so  bubbled  over  with  hot 

terms 
Of  Satan,  liars,  blasphemy.  Antichrist, 
She  never  will  forgive  yoa.    Fly   my 

Lord,  fly!  [power  to  bum! 

Cran,    I  wrote  it,  and  God  grant  me 

Mart,    They  have  given  me   a  safe 

conduct :  for  all  that 

I  dare  not  stay,  I  fear,  I  fear.  I  see  you. 

Dear  friend,  for  the  last  time  ;  iare- 

well,  and  fly. 
Cran,    Fly  and  farewell,  and  let  me 

die  the  death.   [Ex,  Peter  Martyr. 
Enter  Old  Servant. 
O,  Serv.    O,  kind  and  gentle  master, 

the  Queen's  Officers 
Are  here  in  force  to  take  you  to  the 

Tower. 


Cran,     Ai 


861 

Lv,    ffentle    fHend,  admit 
them.    I  will  go. 
I  thank  my  God  it  is  too  late  to  fly. 

[Exewtt, 
ScEXE  III.— St  Paul's  Cross. 
Father  Bourne  in  the  Pulpit,  A  crowd. 
Marchioness   of  Exeter,  Courtenay. 
The  Sieur  de  Noailles  and  his  man 
Roger  xn/r(nit  of  the  stage.    Hubbub, 
Noail,    Hast  thou  let  fall  those  pa- 
pers in  the  palace  ? 
Boy.    Ay,  sir. 

NoaiX,    •*  There  will  be  no  peace  for 
Mary  till  Elizabeth  lose  her  head.*' 
Hog,    Ay,  sir. 

Noail.    And  the  other.    ''Long live 
Elizabeth  the  Queen." 

Rog,    Ay,  sir;  she  needs  must  tread 
upon  them. 

Noail.  Well. 

These  beastly  swine    make    such  a 
grunting  here,  [saying. 

I  cannot  catch  what  father  Bourne  m 
Hog.    Quiet  a  moment,  my  masters; 
hear  what  the  shaveling  has  to  say 
for  himself. 
Crowd,    Hush— hear. 
Bourne,  —and  so  this  unhappy  land, 
long  divided  in  itself,  andsever'd  from 
the  faith,  will  return  into  the  one  true 
fold,  seeing  that  our  gracious  Virgin 
Queen  hath— 
Crowd,    No  pope!  no  pope! 
Boger  (to  those  aJxmt  Aim,  mimicking 
Bourne),     —hath  sent  for  the  holy 
legate  of  the  holy  father  the  Pope, 
Cardinal  Pole,  to  ^ve  us  all  that  holy 
absolution  which— 
1  at.    Old  Bourne  to  the  life ! 
4  at.     Holy  absolution!    holy  In- 
quisition ! 
3  at,    Down  with  tho  Papist. 

[Hubbub, 
Bourne,    —and  now  that  your  cood 
bishop,  Bonner,  who  hath  lam  so  long 
under  tx>nds  for  tho  faith —     [Hubbuif, 
Noail.    Friend  lioger,  steal  thou  in 
among  the  crowd. 
And  get  the  swine  to  shout  Elizabeth. 
Yon  gray  old  Gospeller,  sour  as  mid- 
winter, 
Begin  with  him. 

Jiog.  (goes.)  By  the  moss,  old  friend, 
we'll  have  no  pope  here  while  the  La<ty 
Elizabeth  lives. 

Gospeller.  Art  thou  of  the  true  faith 
fellow,  that  swearest  by  the  mass  ? 

Boa.  Ay,  that  am  I,  new  converted, 
but  the  old  leaven  sticks  to  my  tongue 
yet. 

1  C»^  He  says  right ;  by  the  mass 
we'll  have  no  mass  hei*e. 

Voices  <\f  tfie  Crowd,  Peace!  hear 
him;  let  his  own  words  damn  the 
Papist.  From  thine  own  mouth  I 
ju(%e  thee— tear  him  down. 

Bourne,  —and  since  our  Gracious 
Queen,  let  me  call  her  our  second  Vir* 
nn  Mary,  hath  begun,  to  re-edify  tha 
voetempla— 


t 


QUEEN  MARY. 


1  Cil.    Virgin  Mary  1  we'll  huTs  : 
cirglns  bsiH— vail   likTS    the   Lm. 


Maider-d  In 

BRTD  llll 


youTMlvfls    by    JiQudreil 
onrtejiarl  ■  rouTtonHj 


My  «,«■ 
neforyoH 


111  tbe  Spmimrd 
youiler'H  latUir 

olil  enpliiB  Bwrguyle:  look 
Queen?  {tlie  alty. 

er  him.boyal  and  pelt  hllil  from 
Vhry  leiic  Knmm  anU  M'oa  tbe 
SpaniiVih-  Erttail  on  Ifie  afher 
iMe  MarcliiDiiew  ol  £xeKc  aiul 
Aciendaiiu. 


.  Insc  lier  Lend- 
iiuii  maiioi  lor  Fran™, 
Anil  U  her  peonle,  angdr'il  Iliereapnn, 
Arlee  ogaiiigt  tme   and  dethioue  tbe 

Queen— 
■niM  make*  for  Franee. 
And  ItlbreedeiinfiiBlunaDyiray— 
Tbat  uwhes  [or  Fiuuce. 

Good  ,Uy,  11     ■      ■    '  - 


n 


0  beard  lliaC 
.   MymotberuU,  Qoup 


lIoBlllea. 

[;.    YonlookMa 

Wby  not? 


poorbouee  lo-nigbt. 
TVe  miElii  enllyenyou.    Divers  honeet 

The  Duke  it  Snllolk  lately  freed  from 

Sir  Peter  Carew  and  Sir  ThottiBa  "W 1  W.X , 


oait.     The  Gun 
II  play  well,  an 


ChemtV 


Xnall.    Ay,  bnt  wD  play  wlUi  Heart. 
King  of  IfraiicB, 

His  Hlgbiieu  mukea  Ui*  mores  icmH 

the  ehaniiel,  (lao  nieHeueeii 

We  aiiawer  him  with,  uun,  aud  iben 

Tbat  go  between  ue. 

court.    Wby,  aueli  n  satne,  ilr,  Here 

whole  yean  a  piaj'liiK. 
Jfonii.    Kay ;   not  to  louE  I  trmt 
Tbat  all  depeiide  |pl«vt-- 

Dpo»  the  aklll  niid  anlftneM  uTI 
Conrl.  TheltiUBli  skilfBlatlcr 
A-oail.  Very.  WJ  to 

Com.    AndtbeBtaketlOgli; 
Xoall.    Bat  not  beyonil  yoyr  nial 
<iiurl.    Well,  I'm  tbe  linl  of  plHc  _ 
Hbnllwiji.  leomtMiun 

Xaail-    With  our  mliiee  aiiil* ' 

And  HI  you  well  atleiid  to  the 

I  Ibiiik  you  may-  Itamm 

finirl.    Wheudotoume«tf  ■ 

Ann!'.  Ttt-nUh) 

Coarl.    laeide).    Iwillbetlun,^ 

fellow's  at  bis  trieln—  — i^™ 

Deep— I  Blittll  fstliom  Urn.    lAlM 

QoDd  morning,  Koalllse. 

[Kj^  COOReTHB 

Xoail.    GDOd-d»,  niv  l«nL  SUaoj 

game  of  chen  l  a  King 

Tlini  with  her  DwuinwiiaijlBjiu 


Too  priiirelyfoT  a 

Skli»  BTBry  way,  froiu  leriiy  ot  ti 

Well,  we  Bhall  use  him  somehow,  M 

Uiat  Qntdlner 
And  Slmtm  Renard  apy  n**  ^^.  -.« 
Too  early.    Boger,  Uilukeat  (bou  tbH 

Suspected  lliee  to  be  my  man  ? 
"du.  Km  one.  1 

Snail.  Ko  I  the  disguise  wt*  uerfe 
Lei's  amy  I  [£»■ 

BCBSB  rv.— 
l-alacc. 

CmiTl.    SoyetRDiI,  [m<L! 

Unless  my  friends  and  nilrmn  ijeiO'. 

A  gnodlier-lookiug  fellow  t' - 

T-hiU]!. 

Pah !  Itrallor! 

The  Queen  is  111  luttlsed  :  shall  t  ton 
'"'— '--!almoattalk'diueliito :  yetUNj 
Affii^bts  me  somewhat  i  tub- 
&&V\a,vn  Bolin^bridie  hath  I 


QUEEN  MARY. 


sea 


Good  now,  my  Lady  Queen,  tho*  by 

your  age, 
And  by  your  looks  you  are  not  worth 

the  having, 
Yet  by  your  crown  you  are. 

[Seeing  Elizabeth. 

The  Princess  there? 

If  I  tried  her  and  la— she's  amorous. 

Have  we  not  heard  of  her  in  Edward's 

time,  [Lord  Admiral? 

Her  freaks  and  frolics  with  the  late 

I  do  believe  she'd  yield.    I  should  be 

still  [knows— 

A  party  in  the  state ;  and  then,  who 

£liZ'    What  are  you  musing  on,  my 

Lord  of  Devon  ? 
Ckmrt,    Has  not  the  Queen— 
Eliz,  Done  what,  Sir  ? 

Court.  —Made  you  follow 

The  Lady  Suffolk  and  the  Lady  Len- 
You,  [nox. 

The  heir  presumptive.  [it. 

Eliz.    Why  do  you  ask  ?  you  know 
Court.    You  needs  must  bear  it  hard- 
ly- 
Eltz.  No,  indeed  ! 

1  am  utterly  submissive  to  the  Queen. 
Court,     well,  I  was  musinc  upon 
that ;  the  Queen  [be  friends. 

Is  both  my  foe  and  yours ;  we  should 
Eliz.    My  Lord,  the  hatred  of  anoth- 
er to  us 
Is  no  true  bond  of  friendship. 

Court.  Might  it  not 

Bo  the  rough  preface  of  some  closer 
bond? 
EliZ'    My  Lord,  you  late  were  loosed 
from  out  the  Tower. 
Wliere,  like  a  butterfly  in  a  chrysalis. 
You  spent  your  life ;  that  broken,  otit 
you  flutter  [would  settle 

Thro*  the  new  world,  go  zigzas,  now 
Upon  this    flower,  now  that ;  but  all 
things  here  [ed 

At  court  are  known ;  you  have  solicit- 
The  Queen,  and  been  rejected. 

Court.  Flower,  she  ! 

Half  faded !  but  you,  cousin,  ai-e  fresh 

and  sweet  [tried. 

As  the  first  flower   no  bee  has  ever 

Eliz.    Are  you  the  bee  to  try  me? 

why,  but  now 

I  called  you  butterfly. 

Ornrt.    You  did  me  wrong, 
I  love  not  to  be  called  a  butterfly : 
"Why  do  you  call  me  butterfly  ? 
Eliz,    Why  do  you  go  so  gay  then  ? 
Court.  Velvet  and  gold. 

This  dress  was  made  me  as  the  Earl  of 

Devon 
To  take   my  seat  in  :    looks  it  not 
right  royal  ? 
Eliz.    So  royal  that  the  Queen  for- 
bade'your  wearing  it. 
Court.    I  wear  it  then  to  spite  her. 
Eliz.  My  Ix)rd,  my  Jjord  ; 

I  see  you  in  the  Tower  again.    Her 

majesty 
Hears  you  afFect  the  Prince— prelates 
kneel  to  you,— 


Court.    I  am  the  noblest  blood  in 
Europe,  Madam. 
A  Courtenayof  Devon,  and  her  cous- 
in. 
Eliz^    She   hears  you    make   youi 
boasts  that  after  all 
She  means  to  wed  you.  Folly,  my  good 
Lord.  [the  state 

Court.    How  folly  ?  a  great  party  in 
Wills  me  to  wed  her. 

Eliz.  Failing  her,  my  Lord, 

Doth  not  as  great  a  party  in  the  state 
Will  you  to  wed  me  ? 
Court.  Even  so,  fair  lady. 

Eliz,    You  know  to  flatter  ladies. 
Court.  Nay,  I  meant 

True  matters  of  the  heart. 

Eliz.  My  heart,  my  Lord^ 

Is  no  great  party  in  the  state  as  yet. 
Court.   Great,  said  you?   nay,  you 
shall  be  ^'eat.    I  love  you, 
Lay  my  life  in  your  hands.    Can  you 
be  close  ? 
Eliz.    Can  you,  my  Lord  ? 
Court,         Close  as  a  miner's  casket. 
Listen :  [basisador, 

The  King  of  France,  Noailles  the  Am- 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk  and  Sir  Peter 
Carew.  [others, 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt,    I   myself,  some 
Have    sworn   this  Spanish    marriage 
shall  not  be.  [jecture— 

If  Mary  will  not  hear  us— well— con- 
Were  I  in  Devon    with  my   wedded 
bride,  [ear ; 

Tlie  people  there  so  worship  me— Your 
You  sliall  be  Queen. 

Eliz.    You  speak  too  low,  my  Lord ; 
I  cannot  hear  you. 
Court,  1*11  repeat  it. 

Eliz.  No ! 

Stand  farther  off,  or  you  may  lose  youp 
head.  [sweet  sake. 

.  Court'  I  have  a  head  to  lose  for  your 
Eliz.     Have  you,  my  Lord?    Best 
keep  it  for  your  own. 
Nay,  pout  not,  cousin.  [indeed 

Not  many  friends    are  mine,  except 
Among  the  many.  I  believe  you  mine  ; 

[well. 
And  so  you  may  continue  mine,  fare- 
And  that  at  once. 

Enter  Mary  behind. 
Mary.  Whispering— leagued 

together 
To  bar  me  from  my  Philip. 
Court.  Pray — consider— 

Eliz.  (sceinff  the  Queen).  Well, 
that's  a  noble  horse  of  yours,  my 
Lord.  [day, 

I  trust  that  he  will  carry  you  well  to- 
And  heal  your  headache. 
Court.  You  are  wild;  what 

headache  ? 
Heartache,  perchance  ;  not  headache. 
Eliz.    (asufe  to  Courtenay).  Are 

you  blind  ? 
[Courtenay  sees  the  Queen  and  exit. 

Exit  Mary. 
Enter  Lord  William  Kqnn  wd. 


f 


QUEEN 

It  my  Lord  o(  Devon? 
Hn  wUh  my  Lonl  o( 


1.  refon 
IT  plot  I 


Niky,  li  by  Etisuon  you  ImBr 

Speiik   not  Ihereot— no,  not   to  ynnr 
Ixfflb  Irloiid.  [It.    Still— 

J*«tynu  Hluiuld  IM  confouiirled  with 
Periuda  ma  tBilaTar— us  tlio  nrleit  uys, 
[dead  bode. 
Ton  know  your  Latln-quiBt  ns  a 
'^liiitwus  iiiyl^rd  ul  Devon  tailing 

EUi.  '■WhoUiorliHtoiamesnytMng 
1  follow  your  guod  uduubsI,  griieioua 


Qniot  a4  a  dead  body, 
Haa.       1  ■• 

I  do  not  cu 

Tall  Conrteiiay  iinthi 

lie  liatb  not  nmny), 
JJaylovo  a  puppy  e 


Yon  do  right  well. 

'  UTiancoUor 

virtue 'in  lliin. 
a  most  IS  doE 
for  no  niure 
[up  loeetber, 


So  many  years  In  yon  acoucwdTowor— 

[to  it,  niece, 

RtOi  taken  to  tbia  CaurUnay.    Look 

Ue  bath  no  (eiico  wheu  Gardiner  lucr- 

tionshiBi;  [know  Utm 

AUuozesoiit ;  yet  him— bnransa  tboy 
Tho  last  Whlta  ItOBs,  tbo  last  Fhuita- 

SenaC  rpeopla 

(Nay,  tbora  Is  Cardinal  Polo,  too),  Ihe 

Hay,  '  iklnBliollHe, 

That  you  Bbnll  innriyblm,  make  him 

Elii.    Do  they  Bay  BO.  good  uncle? 

YoQ  ehould  be  plaiit  and  open  with  tae, 

Yoil  should  iioi  play  upon  me. 

Eli-..  >io,eood  uncle. 

r.nter  Oarrl.      The  Quoi-n  would  see 
)-our  Graee  npon  the  momanl. 
UU:.    Why,  my  ford  Blehop  ? 

Card.    rthiukBhuueanatoniitnael 

To  AehTidEc,  or  aoiae  Diber  eouuti? 
Eli:.    Whv,  my  lord  Bishoo  ? 
Oiarl.    I  do  but  brtug  U: 


\  ^.\iiVi\a\»,-T-to,I)B.lM 


QUEEN  MARY, 


865 


Alice*    Goodly  enough,  your  Grace, 

and  yet,  methinks, 
I  liave  seeu  goodlier. 

Mary'  Ay ;  some  waxen  doll 

Thy  baby  eyes  have  reated  on,  belike  ; 
Alfred  and  white,  the  fashion  of  our 

land.  [her  soul) 

But  my  good  mother  came  (God  rest 
Of  Spain,  and  1  am  Spanish  in  myself, 
And  in  uiy  likings. 

Alict,  JBy  your  Grace's  leave 

Your  royal  mother  ciime  of  Spahi,  but 

took  [royal  father 

To  the  English  red  and  white.  Your 
(For  so  they  say)  was  all  pure  lily  and 
In  his  youth,  and  like  a  lady.        [rose 

Mary.  O,  just  Go<l  1 

Sweet  mother,  you  had  time  and  cause 

enough 
To  sicken  of  Ids  lilies  and  his  roses. 
Cast  off.  betray'd,  defamed,  divorced, 

forlorn  !  [forgiveness. 

And  then  the  king— that  traitor  past 
The  false  archbishop  fawning  on  him, 

married 
Tlio  mother  of  Elizbetli— a  heretic 
Ey*n  as  she  is ;  but  God  hath  sent  mo 

liex« 
To  take  such  order  with  all  heretics 
That  it  shall  be,  before  I  die.  as  tho* 
My  father  ond  my  brotlicr  had  not 

lived.  [Jane, 

What  wast  thou  saying  of  this  Lady 
Now  in  the  Tower  ? 
Alice,    Why,  Madam,  sho  was  pass- 
ing [her. 
Some  chapel  down  in  Essex,  and  with 
Lady  Anno  'Wharton,  and  the  Lady 
Anne                                     [stood  up 
Bow'd  to  tho  Pyx ;   but  Lady  Jane 
Stiff  as  the  very  backbone  of  neresy. 
And  wherefore  bow  ye  not,  says  Lady 

Anno  [and  Earth  ? 

To  him  within  there  who  made  Heaven 

I  can  not,  aiul  I  dare  not,  tell  your 

What  I-ady  Jane  replie<l.  [Grace 

Mary.  But  I  will  have  it. 

Alice,     r.ho  said— pray  pardon  me, 

and  pity  her- 

She  hath  liarkcnM  evil  counsel— ah  ! 

The  baker  made  him-  [sho  said, 

Mary.     Monstroub  f  blasphemous  ! 

Sho  ought  to  burn.    Hence,  thou  {exit 

Alice).  No— being  traitor  [a  child 
Her  head  will  fall :  Bhall  it  ?  she  is  but 
We  do  not  kill  the  child  for  doing  that 
His  fatlier  whipt  him  into  doing— a 

head  [that   mine 

So  full  of  grace  and  beauty !  would 
Were  half  as  gracious  !    O,  My  lord  to 

be, 
My  love,  for  thy  sake  only. 
I  am  eleven  years  older  than  he  is. 
But  will  he  care  for  that  ? 
No,  by  the  holy  Virgin,  being  noble. 
But  love  me  only :  then  the  bastard 

sprout. 
My  siste**,  is  far  fairer  tlian  myself, 
will  he  be  drawn  to  her? 
No,  being  of  the  true  faith  with  myself. 


Paget  is  for  him  — for  to  wed  with 

Spain  [against  him ; 

Would  treble  England  —  Gardiner  is 
The     Council,     people.     Parliament 

against  him  ;  [hated  me; 

But  1  will  have. him!    My  hani  father 
My  brother   rather  hated   me   than 

loved ;  [Virgin, 

My  sister  cowers  and  hates  me.    Holy 
Plead  with  thy  blessed  Son;  grant  me 

my  prayer;  [lead 

Give  me  my  Philip;  and  we  two  will 
The  living  waters  of  the  Faith  again 
Back   thro'   their    widow'd    channel 

here,  and  watch  [of  old, 

The  parch'd  banks  I'olling  incense,  ns 
To  heaven,  and  kindled  with  the  palms 

of  Christ! 

Enter  Usher. 
Who  waits,  sir  ?  [lor. 

Usher.    Madam,  the  Lord  Chancel- 
Mary.    Bid  him    come    in    (Enter 

Gardiner.)       Good-morning,     my 

good  Jjonl.  [Exit  Usher. 

Card,    That  every  morning  of  your 

Majesty 
May  be  most  good,  is  every  morning's 

prayer  [Gardiner. 

Of  your  most  loyal  subject,  Stephen 

Mary.    Como  you  to  tell  me  this, 

my  Lord? 
Gard.  And  more. 

Your  people  have  begun  to  learn  your 

worth.  [debts. 

Your  pious  wish  to  pay  King  Edward's 
Your  lavish   household    curb'd,  and 

the  remission  [people. 

Of  half   that  subsidy  levied  on  the 
Make  all  tongues  praise  and  all  hearts 

beat  for  you. 
I'd  have  you  yet  more   loved :  the 

realm  is  poor,  [withdraw 

The  exchequer  at  neap-ebb :  we  might 
Part  of  our  goiTison   at   Calais. 

Mary.  Calais ! 

Our  one  point  on  the  main,  tho  gate  of 

Fi*ance ! 
I  am  Queen  of  England;  take  mine 

eyes,  mine  heart. 
But  clo  not  lose  me  Calais. 

Gard.  Do  not  fear  it. 

Of  that  hereafter.    I  say  your  Grace 

is  loved.  [your  friend 

That  I  may  keep  you  thus,  who  am 
And  ever  faithful  counsellor,  might  I 

speak? 
Mary.    I  can  forespcak  your  speak- 
ing.   Would  I  marry 
Prince  Philip,  if  all  England  hate  him  ? 

That  is  [another: 

Your  question,  and  I  front  it   with 
Is  it  England,  or  a  party  ?    Now,  your 

answer  [my  dresi* 

Gard.    Jly  answer  is,  I  wear  beneath 

A  shirt  of  mail :  uiy  house  hath  been 

assaulted,  [lace, 

And  when  1  walk  abroad,  the  popu- 
With  fingers  pointed  like  so  many  dag- 
gers, LPhilii?  •. 
Stab  me  \u  tawc^j,  \i\«&Vcw^  "^^tslxw  tvvv\ 


Ue 


QUEEN 
n  I  tleop.  n  hanilt«<l  meu-nt- 

Gusrd  mj  poor  iln;ani»  for  England. 

Men  Hon  1.1  iiiufUer  me. 
BecauBe  Wicy  iMnk  ma  lavoror  of  tlita 

ifary.  Aud  that  were  liard  ainn 
you,  my  Lord  Chiiiioallor.  [von— 
Ganl.  But  our  young  Eail  a(  Do 
Mary.  Earl  o(  Devon? 

I  (reed  Mm  from  the  tower,  placed 
MmnlCoun;  pool- 

made  tilm  Earl  of  ]>evan,  uid— Uie 
'  *    '     Lltb  and  wealtli  ou 
MmneMiie,  [dog. 

.nd  roll*  IdmulC  In  »rrion  lllu  a 
I'ard.    More  like  n  Kliool-Dof  Umt 


;l.  1  will  liBlp  you,  Madnin, 

to  tho  otniOBt.    All  tlie  clnitd. 
—  Bratetnl.  Ipulpiled 

Ton  have  ouBted  tho  mock  priest,  re- 
Hl6  Bheplierd  of  St.  Pcler,  iHucd  ILa 

And  bron^  u>  bade  Uia  maia.    I  am 

all  thanka  [well, 

'oGod  nnrtloyourGiocB :  yatlknow 
four  people,  and  I  go  with  tliom  BO 

(ac,  [nera  to  iilny 

Vill   brook  nor  Pope   nor  Spnnlanl 
nie  tviant,  oc  lu  eonunon wealth  or 

ehuich. 
ilari)  (.ihmrinn  the  plclure\.    la  tills 

tha   face   of  one  wlio   piaj-a  Uib 

(tyrant?  [gentle? 

petusB  it]  It  is  not  goodly,  oy.  and 
Canl.      >Udam.  metlilnks   a  cold 
taco  and  a  hauahty . 
And  when  your  HtglineBB    Ut^ks  of 
Courtenay—  [life 

Ay,  true— a  goodlr  one.    I  would  Lis 
"Wero  half  as  goodly  vskU). 
Mani.        What  la  that  yon  rnuttir? 
Garil.    Oh,  Madam,  taka  It  bluntly; 
marry  Phil  In. 
And  be  stepmother  of  a  sronj  nt  foiis  ! 


It  then  remains  tor  your  poor  Gar- 
diner, What  lew 
0  joc  sUll  rare  tt>  trust  him  some- 


ifarg.    rilh 
ed  to  tho  ID 


e  the  Bcondal  aound- 


nam.  All  tny  hope  h 

.  may  ho  found  a  eomidal . 
Maru.  You  oDend  na. 

Bnr<7.    (anidrt.      These  princes  nr 
like  ebildreu,  must  be  pbysick-il 


Tbo  bitter  in 


Tho  An 


ibusandor  from 
Good 


if  trntrring).    A 
your  majesty. 
If.     And    1  abnuld    i 
■TO  a  happy  m 


0  yet.    l\%nt 


Xoail.     Madam,  my  maaleT  bear 

■wlUi  maei  alarm,  repaln- 

That  yoii  may  man*  Philip,  I*rlnni  of 

Foreseeing,  with,  vhate'cr  nuwiUlD^ 

Thai  If  iblaPbtlipbo  tho  Utnlnrkinr 
OI  England,  nud  at  war   nitli  blm, 

your  Grace  [nai, 

And  kingdom  will  bo  suek'd  Into  iha 
Ay,  llio"  you  long  for  peiwei  wfaetv- 

fore,myma8Wr.  [will, 

If  but  to  provB  your  MaJeilT'a  good 
m„..ij  ..I..   1 — ne  fivA  treity 


Pray  God  be  do  n 
Must  be  ronleiit  Oriui  uuu^ 
farewell. 

Snail,    ito'iiff,  nrnrniV    I  wanM 
your  answer  hail  been  other,  M    " 
For  1  tocewo  ilark  days. 

Your  master  woiks  agaliut  me 

1  do  belleie  he  holp  Xorthuml 
Ae^uat  me.  ( 

\oail.      Nay,    pare    raiitasy 
Wliy  tUould  be  more  agnliiat  jn 

Uart(.  Will  you  hew        , 

Mary  of   Scotland,  —  lot  I  hare  iiot 


My  a 


!lr  of   Enelaiidi   ami    my 
itber.  [with 

ake  ttaa  crown  of  Scotloin 

mark'd  her  for  my  broihct  Kd- 
[Irom  Scotland 


&.'^,'cnu,  :)aai  kliig 


QUEEN  MARY. 


m 


In    order   to    betroth  lier    to   your 

Dauphin. 
Bee  then:  [Dauphin, 

Mary  of   Scotland,  married  to    your 
Would  make  our  England,  France; 
Maiy  of  England,  joining  hands  wilh 

Spain, 
Would  be  too  strong  for  France. 
Yea,  were  there  issue    born    to  her, 

Spain  and  we. 
One    crown,  might   rule    the   world. 

There  lies  your  fear. 
That  is  your  dilf  t.    You  play  at  hide 

and  seek. 
Show  me  your  faces  ! 

Noail.  Madam,  I  am  amazed : 

French,  I  must  nee^ls  wish  all  gooil 

tilings  for  France.  [protest 

That   must  be    pardon'd   nie ;  but  I 

Your  Grace's   policy  hath  a  farther 

flight  [seek 

Than  mine  into  the  future.    We  but 

Some  settled  ground  for  peace  to  stand 

upon. 

Mary.    Well,  we  will  leave  all  this, 

sir,  to  our  council. 
Have  you  seen  Philip  ever  ? 
Noail.  Only  once. 

Marif.    Is  this  like  Philip  ? 
NoaU,  Ay,  but  nobler-looking. 

Alary.    Hath  he  the  large  ability  of 

the  Emperor  ? 

Noail.    Ko,  surely  [thee, 

Mary,       I  can  make  allowance  for 

Thou  speakest  of  the  enemy  of  thy 

king.  [naked  truth. 

Noail.    Make  no  allowance  for  the 

He  is  every  way  a  lesser  man  than 

Charles ;  [ing  in  him. 

Stone-hard,  ice-cold— no  dash  of    dar- 

Alary.    If  cold,  his  life  is  pure. 

Noail,       Why  {smiling)^  no,  indeed. 

Marif.    Sayst  thou  ?  Usmitinff). 

NoatL       A  very  wanton  life  indeed 

Mary,    Your  audience  is  concluded, 

sir.  [Exit  Koailles. 

You  cannot 
Learn  a  man's  nature  from  his  natural 
foe. 

Enter  Usher. 

Wlio  waits  ? 
Usher.        The  ambassador  of  Spain, 
your  Grace.  [Exit. 

Enter  Simon  Renard. 

Mary.     Thou    art    ever    welcome, 

Simon  llenard.    Hast  thou 
Brought  me  the  letter  which    thine 

Emperor  promised 

Long  since,  a  formal  offer  of  the  hand 

Of  Philip  ?  [reach'd  me. 

Hen-    Nay,  your  Grace,  it  hath  not 

I  know  not  wherefore — some  mischance 

of  flood. 
And  broken  bridge,  or  spavin'd  horse, 

or  wave  [have  written. 

And  wind  at  their  old  battle  ;  he  must 

Mary.    But  Philip  never  writes  me 

one  poor  word.  [wealth. 

Which  in  his  absence  had  been  all  my 


Strange  in  a  wooer ! 

Jien.  Yet  I  know  the  Prince, 

So  your  king-parliament  suffer  him  to 

land,  [shore. 

Yearns  to  set  foot  upon  your  island 

Mary.    God  change  the  pebble  which 

his  kingly  foot  [stone 

First  presses  into  some  more    costly 
Than  ever  blinded  eye.    I'll  have  one 

mark  it  [tireliko ; 

And  bring  i  t  me.  1*11  have  itbuniish'd 
I'll  set  it  round  with  gold,  with  pearl, 

with  diamond. 
Let  the  great  angel  of  the  church  come 

with  him  ; 
Stand  on  the  deck  and  spread  his  wings 

for  sail ! 
God  lay  the  waves  and  strew  the  storms 

at  sea,  [O  Renard^ 

And  hero  at  land  among  the  people. 
I  am  much  beset,  I  am  almost  in  des- 
pair [ours : 
Paget  is  ours.  Gardiner  perchance  is 
But  for  our  heretic  Parliament— 

Jien,  O  Madam, 

You  fly  your  thoughts  like  kites.    My 

Master,  Charles,  [here. 

Bade  you  go  softly  with  your  heretics 
Until  your  throne  had  ceased  to  trem- 

ble.    Then  [Besides, 

Spit  them  like  larks  for  aught  I  care. 
When  Henry  broke  the  carcass  of  your 

church  [among  you 

To  pieces,  there  were    many  wolves 
Who  dragg'd  the  scattered  limbs  into 

tlieir  den.  [render  these ; 

Tlie  Pope  would  have  you  make  them 
So  would  your  cousin,  Cardinal  Pole  ; 

ill  counsel !  [not  yet 

Tliese  let  them  keep  at  present ;  stir 
This  matter  of  the  churui  lauds.    At 

his  coming 
Your  star  willrise. 

Mary.       My  star  !  a  baleful  one. 
I  see  but  the  black  night,  and  hear  the 

wolf. 
What  star? 
Jien.  Your  star  will  be  your 

princely  son,  [lands  I 

Heir  of  this  England  and  the  Nether- 
And  if  your  wolf  the  while  should  howl 

for  more.  [gold. 

We'll  dust  him  from  a  bag  of  Spanish 
I  do  believe,  I  have  dusted  some  al- 
ready, [ours. 
That,  soon  or  late,  your  parliament  is 
Mary.    Why  do  they  talk  so  foully 

of  your  Prince, 
Benard  ? 

Jien.  The  lot  of  princes.    To  sit 

Is  to  be  lied  about.  [high 

Mary.  Tliey  call  him  cold, 

Haughty,  ay,  worse. 

Jien.    Why,  doubtless,  Philip  shows 
Some  of  the  bearing  of  your  blue  blood 

—still 
All  within  measure— nay,  it  well  be- 
comes him. 
Mary.    Hath  he  the  large  ability  of 

his  father? 


QUEEN  MARY. 


S69 


It  craves  an  instant  answer.  Ay  or 

Ko  ?  [Council  sits. 

Mary.    An  instant.  Ay  or  No !  the 

Give  it  me  quick. 

Alice  (Bteppiny   before   her).     Your 

Highness  is  all  trembling. 
Mary.    Make  way. 

[Exit  into  the  Council  Chamber. 

Alice.     O,  Master  Kenard,  Master 

Kenard.  [Prince ; 

If  you  have  falsely  painted  your  fine 

liaised,    where     you    should    have 

blamed  him,  I  pray  God 
No  woman  ever    loved   you,  Master 
Renard.  [at  night 

It  breaks  my  heart  to  hear  her  moan 
Am  tho*  the  nightmare  never  left  her 
bed.  [you  over 

Jien.    My  pretty  maiden,  toll  me,  did 
8igh  for  a  beard  ? 
Alice,    That's  not  a  pretty  question. 
lien.    Not   prettily  put?    1   mean, 
my  pretty  maiden, 
A  pretty  man  for  such  a  pretty  maiden. 
Alice.    My  Lord  of  Devon  is  a  pretty 
man.  [then  ? 

I  hate  liim.    "Well,  but  if  I  have,  what 
Jien.     Then,    pretty    maiden,    you 
should  know  that  whether. 
A  wind  be  warm  or  cold,  it  serves  to 
A  kindled  fire.  [fan 

Alice.  According^  to  the  song. 

His  friends  would  praise  Aim,  /  bt- 
fieved  'em. 
His  foes    would  blame  him^  aiul  I 
scorned  *emy 
His  friends — as  Angels  I  received  *em. 
His  foes— Tlie   Devil    Juul   suborn' d 

*em. 

Tien.    Peace,  pretty  maiden. 

I  hear  them  stirring  in  the  Council 

Chamber.  [and  yet. 

Lord  Paget*s  '*  Ay  "  is  sure — who  else  ? 

They  are  all  too  much  at  odds  to  close 

at  once  [ness  comes. 

In  one  full  throated  No!    Her  High- 

Enter  Mary. 

Alice,    IIow  deathly  pale  !— a  chair, 
your  Highness. 

[Bringing  one  to  the  Queen. 

7?«n.  Madam, 

The  Council  ? 

Mary.      Ay  I  My  Philip  is  all  mine. 

[Sinks  into  cliair^  lialf  fainting. 


ACT  II. 


Scene  I.— Allington  Castle. 
Sir  Thomas  Wyatt.    I  <lo  not  hear 

from  Carew  or  the  Duke  [move. 
Of  Suffolk,  and  till  then  I  shoul  I  not 
The  Duke    hath  gone    to  Leicester ; 

Carew  stirs 
In  Devon:    that  fine  porcelain  Cour- 

tenay,  [in  using. 

Save  that  he  fears  he  might  bo  crack'U 
(I  have  known  a  semi-madman  in  my 

time  [too. 

go  fancy  ridd*n)  should  be  in  Devon 


Entef  TTilliam. 
News  abroad,  William  ? 

Will,  None  so  new.  Sir  Thomas, 
and  none  so  old.  Sir  '.I'homas.  No  new 
news  that  Philip  comes  to  wed  Mary, 
no  old  news  that  all  men  hate  it.  Old 
Sir  Thomas  would  have  hated  it.  The 
bells  are  ringing  at  Maidstone. 
Doesn't  your  worship  hear  ? 

Wyatt.    Ay,  for  the  Saints  are  come 
to  reign  again.  [no  call 

Most  like  it  is  a  Saint's-day.  There's 
As  yet  for  me  ;  so  in  this  pause,  befor« 
The  mine  be  fired,  it  were  a  pious  work 
To  htring  my  father's  sonnets,  left 
about  [order, 

Like   loosely-scatter'd  jewels,  in  fair 
And  head  them  with  a  lamer  rhyme  of 

mine, 
To  grace  his  memory. 

Will.  Ay,  why  not.  Sir  Thomas? 
He  was  a  fine  courtier,  he ;  Queen 
Anne  loved  him.  All  the  women 
loved  him.  I  loved  him,  I  was  in 
Spain  with  him.  I  couldn't  eat  in 
Spain,  1  coukbi't  sleep  in  Spain.  I 
hate  Spain,  Sir  Thomas. 

Wyatt.    But  thou  couldst  drink  in 

Spain  if  1  remember. 
Will.     Sir  Thomas,  we  may  grant 
the  wine.     Old   Sir  Thomas   always 
granted  the  wine. 

Wyatt.  Hand  me  the  casket  with 
my  father's  sonnets. 

Will.  Ay— sonnets— a  fine  courtier 
of  the  old  Court,  old  Sir  Thomas. 

[Exit. 
Wyatt.     Courtier  of   many  couils, 
he  loved  the  more 
His  own  gray  towers,  plain  life  and 

letter'd  t>eace, 
To  read  and  rhyme  in  solitary  fields, 
The  lark  abov«,  the  nightingale  below. 
And  answer  them  in  song.    TheSiro 

betrets 
Not  h^f  his  likeness  in  his  son.    I  fail 
Where  he  was  fullest :  yet— to  write  it 
down.  [He  torites, 

lie-enter  William. 

Will.  Tliei*e  is  news,  there  is  news, 
and  no  call  for  sonnet-sorting  now, 
nor  for  sonnet-making  either,  but  ten 
thousand  men  on  Penenden  Heath  all 
calling  after  your  worship,  and  your 
worship's  name  heard  Into  Maidstone 
market,  and  your  worship  the  first 
man  in  Kent  and  Christendom,  for  the 
world's  up,  and  your  worship  a-top  of 
iU 

Wyatt.    Inverted   -^sop— mountain 

out  of  mouse.  [house  knaves, 

Say  for  ten    thousand  ten— and  pot* 

Drain-dizzied  with  u  draught  of  mom* 

iug  ale. 

Enter  Antony  Knyvett. 

Will.    Here's  Antony  Knyvett. 
An?/.  Look  you.  Master  Wyatt 

Tear'up  that  woman's  work  there. 


t 


V 


Dumb  ohiMign  ol 


QUEEN  MARY. 


It  will 


When  I  and  thnn  anil  all 
IMsd  bodieg  wEiix 
ForiEes. 


Xni 


igflies 
I  ui,  joai  soimeiD  a  flying 
ITiaH.  WeU,  lot  mine  own  work 
1    th^  '*e;in;w], 

nixm  yonr  iJioaideu. 


cirry  you 


L?l" 


AaAaa 


mf°" 


Why.  goo.1  Lord, 

many  Hoiineia  tw  yo» 

lean,  bTdliis  ? 

.,y,  but  not  now ;  wlmt.liavByou  cyei, 

Thu    Pill  lip     and     the     black.fuce.l 

iwarmsorHpilln,  [worLd, 

The  haidsBt,  cmelleit  people  in  tlie 

CuinelucusUngnponus.eiiiusup. 

(jonHicato     Iftnda,     fiooda,     money— 

Wyatt, -Wyatt,  [eomo 

Wnke,  ucthe  BtoHtnld  Inland  nlu  be- 

A  rotten   limb  of  Spain.    Tliey  roar 

tor  you  [them— Tnore— 

On  Peuenden  Heath,   a  tlioueanil  at 


noBlof 


LlkeMs'uSio 

Slnn-Bonglng  hero;   but,  if  I'm    uiy 
By  Uod,  vnu  nre  lu  poor  a  iwet,  Wyatt, 


MuOgo, 


Bir^ii 

[Anthony 
^Tmu^'^ 

Carova 

ndUi 

You  know  I  kuo 

L'nUllhearfrDi 

1  fear  Ihe  mine  ui  tii-ed  bef  .iie  the  lime. 

Xujl  (sAoujiHj/  (1  paper).    But  here's 

BomeUebrew.    FaltU,  Tliulf  forgot 

it.  [strange  youth 

Look  ;  ean  you  make  it  EngTiib  ?    A 

Suddenly  tliruat  it  on  me,  whisper'd, 
"  Wyatt."  [hit.  biteft 

And  whleklns  round  a  corner,  Bhow'tl 

Before  1  read  hit  face. 

FCvbJI.      Ua  1     CoBrt^nay'a  elpher, 

"SirPelerCfirfaJletltoFratuK:  It 
li  lluiught  Ihe  DitU  iPill  be  taken.  I 
ujAKitU  vat  Mill;  but, for  asptaTttnct'' 
jiatr.il.i»  Kith  tHe  Q.i«B.  Ganlliur 
tlu  CotmcUarsall  atodlli. 


le  the 


(taken 
._  .he  Duk 

Konrtili 

ivo  'will  teaeti'  Queen  Uaiy 


it  HebeUion 


That    tolloWd    1 


The  mine  is  Bred,  a 


I    from   Foueiidoi 


If  Kent  1  EuBland  o(  EncUnd : 


upright,  wh._. . 

bav'd  tbelrs  to  the  Noi 
that  lukLh  l>r^£lit  ua 


reatol  Eugloiij 


&reac  jewel.    PbUlp  ahail  hm 

ary;  r—''—  ' —n-. —  — 

le  your  leadi 


veU  Mnry ;  and  ys  b 


StS 


ULQiLL  III  Lucif  unii  lOJLU. :  B^TV  HU 

the  haughtilieea  <it    their  iioblw; 
eraelty  o£  their  prioaU.    II  thil 

and  the  Commons  may  feuoetoiwdUi 

Ewer  witli  reetrii-Uoit,  he  willba  Xlw 
ng  ofEnjzliuid,mymMte»;andllW 
□neeu,  and  lie  laws,  ami  Uio  people.Ma 

aluiM.  What?  shall  ve  have  Si   ' 
•— ■' andlnlhei ' 


houaee,  lu  our  beds  f 
Crmcd.  Ko  1  no  !  ii 
mil.  Ko  Spain  1 
were  woreo  than  al 
Uinre  with  old  Sir  ■ 
beds  I  know.    I  hate 


ly-ffoU  So,  my  friend  ;  tit,T  Jbr  Ou 
Queeii'B  Oraeo— to  bbvb  ber  tnnt  ia- 
aelf  and  Philip— mir  againat  Bpdn. 
And  think  i.ot  we  ahSl  be  alwii- 
thouaanda  will  floek  to  ua.    TbeCoui^ 

■    "e  Court  iuell,  ii 


B— war  aialiiM  Suallil 

notiiowryelllwWl* 

known  tbnt  we  liave  moved ;  whI  It 
Pbfllp  come  1o  be  lUilg,  0,my  OoAl 
tlie  rope,  Iba  rack,  the  |]ii  ~ 

tlie  Btake,  the  On.    It  we 

now,  Spun  movea,  bribes  out  notiha 
with  her  gold,  and  creeps,  cteepi  Bi»k»' 


at  all ;  and  ye  know,  my  maaUn, 
that  wherever  Spain  linUi  rBl«d  iba 
hath  wither'd  all  beneaUi  hct.  Lo«t 
at  Uie  New  World-a  panhUi 

hell :  tbe  red  man,  that  vond , 

ereatnre,  starved,  malra-d,  Hofrti 
flay'd.  burn'd,  btril'd,  buHed  iiOtci 
worried  by  doga ;  and  hero,  JtntMi 
home,  the  KeUierland*.  Slelly.  Kapltai 
Lumbardy.    I  eay  no  mure— only  tM 


QUEEN  MARY, 


87i 


with  ine  !  forward  to  Ijondon  !  If  ye 
love  your  liberties  or  your  skins,  for- 
ward to  London  !  [Wyatt !  A  Wyatt ! 
Crowd,     Forward    to   London !     A 
Wyatt.    But  first  to  Itochester,  to 
take  the  guns  [river. 

From  out  the  vessels   lying   in    the 
Then  on. 
A  Peeisant,    Ay,  but  I  fear  we  be 

too  few,  Sir  Thomas. 

WycUt.    Not  many  yet.    The  world 

as  yet,  my  friend,  [tower 

Is  not  half-waked;  but  every  parish 

Shall  clang  and  clash  alarum  as  we 

pass,  [and  fetl 

And  pour  along  the  land,  and  swoll'n 

With  indraughts   and    side-currents, 

in  full  force 
Boll  upon  Loudon.  [Forward  ! 

CYoicd.  A  Wvatt !  a  Wyatt ! 

Kiiu.      Wyatt,  shall    we  proclaim 

Elizabeth  ? 
IVyatt,    1*11  think  upon  it,  Knyvett. 
Kny.  Or  Lady  Jane  ? 

Wyatt.    No.  poor  soul ;  no. 
Ay,  gray  old  castle  of  Allington,  green 
nelu  [chance 

Beside  the  brimming  Medway,  it  may 
That  i   shall   never  look   upon   you 
more. 
Jiiiy.    Come,  now,  you're  somietuig 

again. 
Wyatt.    Not  I. 
I'll  have  my  head   set  higher  in  the 
state ;  [stake. 

Or— if  the  Lord  God  will  it— on  the 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II.— Quildhall.  Sir  Thomas 
White  (the  Lord  Mayor),  Lord  Wil- 
liam Howard.  Sir  Kalph  Bagenhall, 
Aldermen  and  Citizens. 

Wlute.    I   trust  tlie   Queen  comes 

hither  with  her  guards. 
How.    Ay,  all  in  arms. 
[Several  of  the  citizens  move  hastily 
out  of  the  hall. 

Why  do  they  hurry  out  there  ? 

IFhUe.    Aiy  Lord,  cut  out  the  rotten 

from  your  apple,  [go. 

Tour  apple  eats  the  better.    Let  them 

They  go  like  those  old  Pharisees  in 

John  [cowards. 

Convicted  by  their  conscience,  arrant 

Or  tamperers  with  that  treason  out  of 

Kent. 
When  will  her  Grace  be  here  ? 

How,  In  some  few  minutes. 

She  will  address  your  guilds  and  com- 
panies, [her. 
I  have  striven  in  vain  to  raise  a  man  for 
But  help  her  in  this  exigency,  make 
Your  city  loyal,  and  be  the  mightiest 

man 
This  day  in  England. 

White.  I  am  Thomas  White. 

Few  things  have  fail'd  to  which  I  set 

my  will. 
I  do  my  most  and  best. 
How.  You  know  that  after 


The  Captain  Brett,  who  went  with 

your  train  bands  [him 

To  light  with  Wyatt.  had  gone  over  to 
Witli  all  liis  men,  the  Queen  in  that 

distress  [traitoi\ 

Sent  Comwallis  and  Hastings  to  the 
Feigning  to  treat  with  him  about  her 

marriage — 
Know  too  what  Wyatt  said. 

White.  He'd  sdonor  bo, 

While  this  same   maiTiage   question 

was  being  ai^ned. 
Trusted  tlian  trust— the   scoundrel— 

and  demanded  [Tower. 

Possession   of    her    i>erson    and  the 

How.    And  four  of  her  poor  Council 

too, my  Lord, 
As  hostages. 

White.    1  know  it.   What  do  and  say 
Your  Council  at  this  hour  ? 

hoio.  I  will  trust  you. 

We  fling  ourselves  on  you,  my  lx)rd. 

The  Council,  *  [waters : 

The  Parliament  as  well,  are  troubled 
And  yet  like  waters  of  the  fen  they 

know  not  [address. 

Which  way  to  flow.    All  hangs  on  her 
And  upon  you.  Lord  Mayor. 

White.  How  look'd  the  city 

When  now  you  past  it  ?    Quiet  ? 

Hoio.  Like  our  Council, 

Your  city  is  divided.    As  we  past. 
Some  hail'd,  some  hiss'd  us.    Uliere 

were  citizens  [and  look'd 

Stood  each  before  his  shut-up  booth, 
As  grim  and  grave  as  from  a  funeral. 
And  here  a  knot  of  ruffians  all  in  rags, 
With  execrating  execrable  eyes, 
Glared  at  the  citizen.     Here  was  a 

young  motlier,  [blown  back. 

Her  face  on  flame,  her  red  hair  all 
She  shrilling  «  Wyatt,"  while  the  boy 

she  held  [red  as  she 

Mimick'd  and  piped  her  "  Wyatt,"  as 
In  hair  and  cheek ;  and  almost  elbow- 
ing her,  [death 
So  close  they  stood,  another,  mute  as 
And  white  as  her  own  milk  ;  ner  babe 

in  arms  [heart 

Had  felt  the  faltering  of  his  mother's 
And  look'd  as  bloodless.    Here  a  pious 

Catholic,  [prayers 

Mumbling  and  mixing  up  in  his  scared 
Heaven  and  earth's  Maries ;  over  his 

bow'd  shoulder  [hating  beast, 

Scowl'd  that  world-hated  and  world- 
A  haggard  Anabaptist.     Many  such 

groups.  [Courtenay, 

The     names    of    Wyatt,     Elizabeth, 
Nay  the  Queen's  right  to  reign— 'fore 

God,  the  rogues —  [I  say 

Were  freely  buzz'd  among  them.  So 
Your  city  is  divided,  and  I  fear 
One  scruple,  this  or  that  way,  of  suc- 
cess [now  the  Queen 
Would  turn  it  thither.  Wherefore 
In  this  low  pulse   and  palsy  of  the 

state. 
Bade  me  to  tell  you  that  she  counts 

on  you 


^■■v?' 


QUEEN 

And  on  Riyseir  u  lior  tnD  liands  j 
In  jour  owii  iilty,  u  lice  ilglit, 


■3?^ 


Ku  ;  elie  ihall  m 


lid  be  luiahandh 

Nu  ;  t 

TUu  Queen  hod  wtilten  liDC  wc...  .. 

It  Reiinrd  In  Uio 


UetliouBli'  1  sme 

"  mtalvo'*  '  ""'  "'"'  "  [ori'iot 
Wlilcli  Uild  her  to  bo  tick.  Baiiplly 
It  fauinl  lier  >ick  Indeed. 

Hero  eomea  her  Rojal  Grace. 
Enlrr  (iuaidB,  Mary  omiI  Gardiner. 
Sir  Thorns.  White  liaili  lur  m  a 

V^hilt.    I,  tlie  LordMsjar,  and  theae 


And  gullde 


_  -  II  MgluiaBB  to  accept  our  luwllcst 
For  jDur  nioii  pilucely  pnneuce  ;  nud 


TliB  therefore  o[  tlila  coming,  and  to 
Your  royal  wlU,  and  do  It— 1,  Lord 

l*n^on,  ond  our  Guil.U  anfc' ml 


I  reE^to  out  0 


MARY. 

01  England,  and  lili  rlgtiC  fame  doin 
Corrgbonilo  by  your  acu  et  Parllo- 
Aiidas 


Wliere 


tleui  will  ya  aboir  younelvn 
•re,  ye  nill  Iint  liroDk  Uiat  any 


Xitlili  sums  WyKtt,  who    km 
per'd  Willi 
publlu  Ignorancf,  snd,  undei 

>eek> 


[lielJ 


Hov  motheis  Idto  Ihelr  cMldieu ;  jst 

methinln, 
A  prints  OB natnmlly  may  Tovc  Ills  pco' 

So  lavea    yuu,  and  to  lorlng,  netit 

This  love  ijy  you  tetiini'dss  liesiHIyi 
And  tliro-  this  commun  knot  and  baud 
o£  love.  [Uircim. 

Doubt  not  they  will  he  epeeiUly  ov•^ 
'-  ■-  Ihi»  marriage,  yo  shall  — '~ 


Tlia  king,  my  fnlher,  did  fomutt  bH 
Who  iJ.it  alone  wiceni'd  il  honr" ■■'- 


,     „ !   WBd    the 

Prince  of  Sp^ni  [at  B ret— 

Thnt  was  their  praiext— ao  they  apBlie 
But  we  lent  divers  of  ourConndl  to 


H  nil  their  qasrrel.  [their  hearts : 

Iliey  have  lietiByed  tho  U-eaaon  of 
jeok  to  iiossess  our  perHQn,  hold  one 

Tower,  [and  uaa 

Place  and  dlaplnee  oar  councllloie, 
Botli  iiB  atid  them  ofcardliig  n£  they 

will.  [your  Queen: 

Kow  wlial  am  I  yo  know  il^ht  woll- 
ro  whom,  when  I  woe  we.lde.!  to  ihc 

realm  [riiin  wliereof. 

tnd   the   realni'ii^  laws   iLlie   apouaa] 


Tct  If    It  might  please 

To  be   your 

And  U  would  bo  your  comfon.  w  I 
Aiid  truly.  It  1  ellher  Uiouslit  or  kii»» 

Tbla  Riamasc   should  bring  Iuib  at 


QUEEN  MARY, 


37.1 


To  be  of  rich  nd vantage  to  our  realm 
We  will  refrain,  and  not  aloue  from 

this, 
Likewise  from  any  other,  out  of  which 
Looms  the  least  chance  of  peril  to  our 

realm. 
Wherefore  be   bold,   and  with  your 

lawful  Prince  [yours. 

Stand  fast  against  our  enemies  and 
And  fear  them  not.    1  fear  them  not. 

My  Lord. 
I  leave  Lord  William  Howard  in  your 

city, 
To  guard  and  keep  3*011  whole  and  safe 

from  all  [these  rebels, 

The  spoil  and  sackago  aim'd  at  by 
Who  mouth    and   foam   against  the 

Prince  of  Spain. 
Voices,    Long  live  Queen  Mary : 
Down  with  Wvatt ! 

The  Queen  I 
White,   Three  voices  from  our  guilds 

and  companies. 
You  are  shy  and  proud  like  English- 
men, my  masters, 
And  will  not  trust  your  voices.    Un- 
derstand : 
Your  lawful  Prince  hath  come  to  cast 

herself  [fall 

On  loyal  hearts  and  bosoms,  hoped  to 
Into  tne  wide-spread  arms  of  fealty, 
And  finds  you  statues.    Speak  at  once 
For  whom  ?  [—and  all ! 

Our  sovereign  Lady  by  King  Harry's 

will  ;  [i3h  Squire  ? 

The  Queen  of  England— or  the  Kent- 
1  know   you  loval.     Speak  !    in   the 

name  of  Goif !  [of  Kent  ? 

The  Queen  of  England  or  the  rabble 
The  recking  dungfork  master  of  the 

mace  !  [and  spade — 

Your  havings  -wasted  by  the  scythe 
Your  rights  and   charters   hobnail'd 

into  slush —  [bling  blood— 

Your  houses  fired— your  guttei-s  bub- 

Acclamation.   No  !  No  I  The  Queen ! 

the  Queen ! 
White.  Your  Highness  hears 

This  burst  and  bass  of  loyal  harmony, 
And  how  we  each  and  all  of  us  abhor 
The  venomous,  bestial,  devilish  revolt 
Of    Thomas    Wyatt    Hear    us    now 

make  oath 
To  raise  your  Highness  thirty  thou- 
sand men,  [and  brush 
And  arm  and  strike  as  with  one  hand, 
This  Wyatt  from  our  shoulders,  like 

a  flea  [wares. 

That  mieht  have  leapt  upon  us  una- 
Swear  with  mo,  noble  fellow-citizens, 

all,  [companies. 

With  all  your  trades,  and  guilds,  and 
Citizens.    We  swear ! 
Mary.     We  thank  your    Lordship 

and  your  loyal  city. 

[Exit  Mary  cUtenderf. 
White.    I  trust  this  day,  thro'  Goil, 

I  have  saved  the  crown. 
1  Aid.    Ay,  so  my  Lord  of  Pembroke 

iu  command 


Of  all  her  forco  bo  safe ;  but  there  aro 

doubts. 
2  Aid.    I  hear  that  Gardiner,  coming 

with  the  Queen, 
And  meeting  Pembroke,  bent  to  hlii 

saddle-bow,  [hira. 

As  if   to  win  the  man  by  flattering 
Is  ho  so  safe  to  fight  upon  her  side  ? 

1  AUl.    If  not,  there's  no  man  safe 
White.  Yes,  Thomas  White. 

I  am  safe  enough:  no  man  need  flatter 
me.  [you  mark  our  Queen  ? 

2  Aid.  Nay,  no  man  need;  but  did 
The  color  freely  play 'd  into  her  face, 
And  the  half  sighu  which  makes  her 

look  so  stern,  [of  hers, 

Seem'd  thro'  that  dim  dilated  vrorld. 
To  read  our  faces  ;  1  havo  never  scczi. 
So  queenly  or  so  goodly.  [her 

White.  Courage,  sir. 

That  makes  or  man  or  woman  look 

their  goodliest.  [whino 

Die  like  the  torn  fox-dumb,  but  never 
Like  that  poor  heart,  Northumberland, 

at  the  block. 
Jiar/.    The  man  had  children,  and  ho 

whined  for  those. 
Methinks    most   men    are  but    poor- 
hearted,  else  [it  commoner  ? 
Should  we  so  doat  on  courage,  were 
The  Queen  stands  up,  and  speaks  foi 

her  own  self;  [is  goodly. 

And  all  men  cry,  she  is  queenly,  she 
Yet  she's  no  goocllicr ;    tho'  my  I^ord 

Mayor  here,  [to-day. 

By  his  own  rule,  ho  h.ad  been  vo  bold 
Should  look  more  (joodly  than  the  rest 

of  us. 
White.    Goodly  ?  I  feci  most  goodly 

heart  and  hand,  [all  Kent. 

And  strong  to  throw  ten  Wyatls  and 
Ha!  ha!  sir;  but  you  jest;  I  love  it:  a 

jest  [even. 

In  time  of  danger  shows  Iho  inilses 
Be  merry!  yet,  SirBalph,  you  look  but 

sad.  [self, 

I  dare  avouch  you'd  stand  up  for  your- 
Tho'  all  the  world  should  bay  like  win- 
ter wolves. 
Bag.  Who  knows?  the  man  is  proven 

by  the  hour. 
White.     The  man  should  make  the 

hour,  not  this  the  man  ; 
And  Thomas  White  will  prove   this 

Thomas  Wyatt,  [Cade, 

And  he  will  prove  an  Iden  to  this 
And  he  will  play  the  Walworth  to  this 

Wat; 
Come,  sirs,  we  prate;  hence  all — ^gather 

your  men — 
Myself  must  bustle.    Wyatt  comes  to 

South wark  ;  [the  Thames 

I'll  have   the  drawbridge  hewn  into 
And  see  the  citizen  arm'd.    Good  day ; 

good  day.  [Exit  White. 

Jiag.    One  of  much  outdoor  bluster. 
Hoiv.  For  all  that, . 

Most  honest,  brave,  and  skilful ;  and 

his  wealth 
A  fountain  of  perennial  alms— hie  fault 


7 


\ 


.374 
So  iboTOOglily  lo 
Bag.  '  Y«t  thoroi 


IT  MAIIT. 
I      Hrrtl-     On 
Were  to  Icoe  nl 


■eem  BtrHligH  bufond  hia  iiu 


Uakea  eiie 
And  il  \'i< , 


•fi'^i.l''. 


[Bee 
oihU  Olid  lor  Ilii 

ail  uud  still  will 
[Stale, 


Tlw  iniBnl  at  Lnilsale.    Faro  you  wall, 

six  KBllili. 
il«p.     "Who  know.  7"     I  Bin  (cc 

SnglAiul.    But  who  knona. 
Hut  knnwB  Uie  Qusen,  Iha  Hpuilan], 

anil  llio  Pope, 
'WUeUier  1  bo  for  WyaU,  or  Ule  Quaaii  ? 

SoESE  Til.— tniirfoa  BrUlat. 
£n(cr  Sir  Thomu  Wjatl  aiul  Brett. 
IfKoff.      Brott,  ^-liBii  Uie  Cuko  of 

Mortolk  moved  ognliist  us, 
Tliou  ciiedst  "  a  Wyutt,"  auil  flying  to 

Left  liis  nil  bare,  for  wMuU  1  lore  Uifd, 

Brett.  |e«i  Btve. 

Have  tor  thlno  uklng  aaglic  Uial  I 

"Loildon  BridgB*;''     ""ti^Amxcl. 

Bat  how  lo  CTonitWlka  me.     1  fear 

nritL     Naj-,  hardly,  nave  by  b«ot, 

Vvatt.    Laat  night  Iiiumb'il Into  tbe 

AndiFSred  Iha  giay  old  porUir  and  hie 

And  then 
They  hnd  hi 


[same  tide 
I*  death  -.  anil  thai 
OUT  coming,  Beeni'<] 


And  sparkle  like 


HOWB 


loaii'd  against 
'ehasmlaaw  XJird^Uliam 


BY  louhlighl    ami  hia    gi 

EunBgapsilHtmo, 
BIa3i,sllcntmoDthe:hadIIi 

And  made  them  speak,  as  wi 

Their  voice  bad  left  me  n 

yVhax.  slioll  we  do  ? 


To  go  bi 


On  over  London  Bridie 
We  CBtuiot :  stay  we  muuiol :  thtre  \ 

ordiianoe 
On  the  Whilfl  Ton 

ByKhieatouBrld 
Brelt.            Ten  miles  about. 
Wimtl-  1 

But  I  have  noticed  from  ourpaitisana 
Within  the  city  that  they  will'-    "- 


the  Devil'i 
.  Jiwark :  wi 


^tlo-' 


U  Ladgate  can  be  reached 

EJ^ItT  one  of  Wyatfi  ««, 

Man.    Sir  Thoniaa,  I're  rouiiil  UiN 

jMpor,  pray  your  vorablp  read  it;! 

fc:iow  not  ray  letteis;  Uie  tdd  ptM 

Innght  ine  nothing. 

WhoU  (mufi).      WhoaoestT  uiU  w 
'  ike  traitor  Tkaatm  Wfna  4liali 
UTirfreii  poioHlsJtir  meant. 
Is  Ihatltr   llial^  a  big  Ut  o( 


'?t5""'tur-'"-" 
HoU  plain  Gi 
of  paper! 

Thoro,  any  m 

Bnii.  But  that'a  fnolliDrdT. 

Wliail-      No  I  Ixildiiins,  which  wIIL 
giTB  my  f  oUoweis  boldneoa. 
Enter  I^lan  loith  a  prUtmerM 

Man.  We  louiid  lilm,  your -worthlii, 
a  plundering  o'  BlaliopWincboDe  A 
house  ;  he  saj's  tie's  a  poor  geuU» 


Wjiall-      Gentleman, 

Cans  him.    Shall  w 


ilreK.    Wyatt,bi 
Wgalt.    A^'.a 


Hang  him,  I  ny. 


yon  proralni 
[fellow's  UU. 
— ■  this  Oat 

,y  ndghr 

^_..i6lBdo«l 

He's  poor  enoagh,  has  flraiUt  an' 
All  that  bs  bad,  and  gentleman  h 

wBi.  pin 

Wohaia  been  glad  tocetlieri  letbli 
HTgall.    Uo  has  gamGlBd  toe  Ilia  UIl 

and  lost,  lie  bangs. 
Mo.  no,  my  word's  my  word.    Take  Of 

poor  Eenlleman  I 
Gambia  ihyself  Qt  once  out  of  rai 
Or    t  will  die  thee  witi  my  il__._ 
Women  and  ohildrau  I  [Amrf 

Enler  a  crowd  qf  Womi 
1  troman.    O  Sir  Thoma»iSIr  Tboni» 

yo'u^li  mi^e  t^\Vhi'te  1'over  TblL, 
W  toe  ua  tlihi  hleesed  day.   Ua-ll  h 


QUEEN  MARY. 


S75 


the  death  on  ns  ;  and  you*ll  set  the 
Divil's  Tower  a-spitting,  and  he'll 
emash  all  our  bits  o^  things  worse  than 
Philip  o'  Spain. 

2  Woman.  Don't  ye  now  go  to  think 
that  we  be  for  Philip  o'  Sp^n. 

3  Woman.  No,  we  know  that  ye  be 
come  to  kill  the  Queen,  and  we'll  pray 
for  you  all  on  our  bended  knees.  But 
o'  God's  mercy  don't  ye  kill  the  Queen 
here.  Sir  Thomas ;  look  ye,  here's  little 
Dickon,  and  little  Robin  and  little 
Jenny — ^though  she's  but  a  side-cousin— 
and  all  on  our  knees,  we  pray  you 
to  kill  the  Queen  farther  off,  Sir  Thom- 
as. 

Wyatt.  My  f  liends,  I  have  not  come 

to  kill  the  Queen  [all, 

Or  here  or  there :  I  come  to  save  you 
And  I'll  go  farther  off. 

Crowd.  Thanks,  Sir  Thomas,  we  be 
beholden  to  you,  and  we'll  pray  for 
vou  on  our  bended  knees  till  our 
lives'  end. 

}Ftfatt.  Be  happv,  I  am  your  friend. 
To  Kingston  ;  forward.     [ExeunL 

Scene  IV.—Jioom  in  tite  Gatehouse  of 
Westminster  Palace.  Mary,  Alice, 
Gardiner,  Ilenard,  Ladies. 

Alice.    O  madam,  if  Lord  Pembroke 

should  be  false  ? 
Mary.     No,  girl:  most  brave    and 
loyal,  brave  and  loyal. 
His  breaking  with   Northumberland 
broke  Northumberland,      [^ards. 
At  the  park  gate  he  hovers  with  our 
These    Kent»h    ploughmen     cannot 
break  the  guards. 

Enter  Messenger. 

Mes.    Wyatt,  your  Grace,  hath  bro- 
ken thro'  the  guards 
And  gone  to  Ludgate. 

Cr an/.  Madame,  I  much  fear 

That  all  is  lost ;  but  we  can  save  your 

Grace. 

The  river  still  is  free.    I  do  beseech 

you,  [to  "Windsor. 

There  yet  is  time,  take  boat  and  pass 

Mary.    I  pass  to  Windsor  and  I  lose 

my  crown. 
Ganl.      Pass,   then,    I   pray   your 

Highness,  to  the  Tower. 
Mary.    I  shall  but  be  their  prisoner 
in  the  Tower.  [Pembroke! 

Cries  without.    The  traitor!  treason ! 
Ladies.  Treason  !  Treason  ! 

Mary.    Peace.  [to  me  ? 

False  to  Northumberland,  is  he  false 
Bear  witness,  Renard,  that  I  live  and 
die  [A  sound 

Tlie  true  and  faithful  bride  of  Philip— 
Of  feet  and  voices  thickening  hither- 
blows—  [gates. 
Hark,  there  is  battle   at  the    palace 
And  I  will  out  upon  the  gallery. 
Ladies.     No,  no,  your  Grace;  see 
there  the  arrows  flying. 


Mary,    I  am  Harry's  daughter,  Tu- 
dor, and  not  fear, 

{Goes  out  on  the  galleru. 

The  guards  are  all  driven  in,  skulk 

into  comers  [guard 

Like  rabbits  to  their  holes.  A  gracious 

Truly  ;  shame  on  them,  they  have  shut 

the  gates ! 

Enter  Sir  Robert  Southwell. 
South.      The   porter,  please    your 
Grace,  hath  shut  the  gates 
On  friend  and  foe.    Your  gentlemen' 

at-arms. 
If  this  be  not  your  Grace's  order,  cry 
To  have  the  gates  set  wide  again,  and 
they  [you  right 

With  their  good  battle-axes  will  do 
Against  all  traitors. 
Mary.    They  are  the  flower  of  Eng- 
land ;  set  the  gates  wide. 

[Exit  Southwell. 

Enter  Courtena3\ 

Court.   All  lost,  all  lost,  all  yielded ; 
a  bai^e,  a  barge. 
The  Queen  must  to  the  Tower. 
Mary.  Whence  come  you,  sir  ? 

Omrt.     From  Charing  Croes  ;   the 
rebels  broke  us  there,  [might 

And  I  sped  hither  with  what  haste  I 
To  save  my  royal  cousin. 
Mary.    Where  is  Pembroke  ? 
Court.    I  left  him  somewhere  in  the 
thick  of  it.   [that  wouldst  be  King, 
Mary.    Left  him  and  fled  ;  and  thou 
And  hast  no  heart  nor  honor.   1  myself 
Will   down  into  the  battle  and  uiere 
bide  [those 

The  upshot  of  my  quarrel,  or  die  with 
That  are  no  cowards  and  no  Gourtenays 
[should  call  me  coward. 
Court.    I  do   not  love  your  Grace 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Mes.    Over,  your  Grace,  all  crush'd ; 
The  brave  I^rd  William 
Thrust  him  from    Ludgate,  and  the 
traitor  flying  [Berkeley 

To  Temple  Bar  there  by  Sir  Maurice 
Was  taken  prisoner. 
Mary.  To  the  Tower  with  him ! 

Mes.    'Tis  said  he  told  Sir  Maurice 
there  was  one  [unto. 

Cognizant   of    this,  and  party  there- 
My  Lord  of  Devon. 
Mary.     To  the  Tower   with    him.' 
Court.    O  la,  the  Tower,  tlie  Tower 
always  the  Tower,  [the  Tower. 

I    shall   grow   into   it  —  1   shall    be 
Mary.      Your    Lordship   may    not 
have  so  long  to  wait. 
Remove  him  ! 

Court.     La,  to  whistle  out  my  life, 

And  carve  my  coat  upon  the    walls 

again  !     [Exit  Courtenay  auarded. 

Mes.     Also  this  Wyatt  did  confess 

the  Princess  [unto. 

Cognizant   thereof,  and  party  there- 

Marjh    What?   whom  — whom  did 

you  say  ? 


Yont  Bojal  bUMi 

Mara.     To    lliB   Tower 
My  (oB3  are  at  inj  foet 

QuqOIL 

[GsPlliier  1 


QUEEN 

Ellubetli, 


if  wlBtloiii  111  m;  ti 


□I  SiilToU 
And  LoJ;  Jsue  bod  left  iu 
ilary.  Till 


IL  mr  feet,  uid  Plillip 


SoESB  1.-7^  OwirfuH  in  Grace 
Chunh.  7^iJn/al  vUh  the  Nine 
Wartklet  nmoRtf  than  Klnj  Henry 


VIII.,  AoMiiia  n  bool*,  oil  I 


MARY. 


Iirr  lAdlEB  laiwl  fo  Aer. 


Of  De«oii:    if  luve  Mm.lio.. 

Are  Ixniiid  to  me— may  strlkB  liece- 

ttftar.    (^(oiMl.)   MtttlaiH, 
mint  Wynn  Bai-1,  or  wbat  tbey  lalU 

Cries  of  lliB  moment  anil  tlie  ilreot— 
Moth.  ilesairtlt. 

Card.     Your  DOuiU  of  justice  will 

dewtniliie  that. 
Ren.   (/KfunnciTtg.)     I  trtiBt  by  this 

your  Hlghnos!  win  alloi" 


IlwU«>a 
:  am  in  dlseoivd. 


s  mamsgc.    Dii 


Been  rendliis  aome    old    booli 
mine  old  lionnil  LHusli ' 

Coneli'd  ot  my  lieortli,  and  mi 
Beside  me,  Uiau  bave  aeeu  It,  y«t  t 

Slnf.    Oood.wnfltBpleniliJ? 

nan.  Ay,  if  Diilics,  anil  EatK 

Anil  Count*,  and  aiity  Spaulsh  trntk 

lien,  [peut^ 

Some  tAx  or  acvnn  Bltliops,  diainoiHtt. 

That    royal  conimDUplace  loo,    clotli 

Conld  make  it  so.  [of  goUL 

Stn/.     And  wliiit  iva»  Mary'silr™? 

"—      Good  fniUi,  I  was  loo  aonr 

[Bho«l 

I.    She   wnri*  nd. 

auij.  Itnlehotif 

Bag.     Scarlet,  as  ii  hci  feet  we 

waiheil  in  blooil, 

A>  1(  Blic  liad  waited  in  it. 

Sti\(:  Ware  your  er 

So  li.'uhtultoatyoiilook'itiio  lilgur 

lUin.  A  dliunon-- 

AmiPldUp's  girt,  as  proof  ot  PhiBp^t 

love,  [true  <— 

Wlio  liath  not  any  lor  any,— tin 


Bnn-     ( 
fSrth 


Tlio  Tigroaa  luvl  iinahoath'd  her  nails 
Aiid  IleiinTd  and  the  CbaiicellOTSliarp- 
en'il  tliem.  [itood. 

In   CTBiy   Ijomlon    Btreet   a   gibliot 
Tbey  arc  down  toxlay.    Hare  by  llils 

The  tndior  Imcband  daiiglod  at  Iho 

for  bread 
To  Btill  the  potty  traaKin  therairttliin, 
Her  cap  would  brush  his  lieolB. 

Slrif.  lllaSirRolph. 

And  mntterlna  to  Idnuelf  ns  Iicrolo. 

Sir,  see  you  aught  up  yoniler  7 

The  tree  that  only  bears  dead  fruit  is 

Staf.    SviuittrBB,  »lrr  [air, 

Bnn  Wall,  Ihe  tree  in  Virall, 

■niatVai ' ' ■-- 

Sfnf. 


\\\a^X{\l\^\a-m 


The  fattier  laied  Naplw,  that  t 

Being  a  Kliig,  might  wed  a  (jueeii-^ 
_   lie  [trunk  boMi 

Plamod   In   broende— white  aallu  bU 
Iiiwronght  with  silTcr,— on  hla 

oollnr,  [down  f  rt     

Golil,  thick  with  dlsmonde;  lianglDf 
Tho   Golden   Fleece— and  round  ■-'- 

knee,  mliplocoil. 
Our    English    Guter.   atnddeil    i 

great  emeralds,  Ilia.|  eiiongh 

RuWoB,  I  know  uat  what.    H»*o  yo- 
Of  idl  tliltgent? 
SVif.  Ay,  einee  you  hate  lb 

telling  It. 
How  looked  the  Qneen  7 


Come  from  llie  K 
Beneath  oils  can 
RV>6  =ai.l  mi  hlni  a 


[bj^i 


QUEEN  MARY. 


Zll 


Which  Philip,  triih  a  glance  of  some 

aistaate,  [wrong,  sir. 

Or  so  methought.  rctumM.  I  may  be 
This  marriage  will  not  hold. 

Staf.  1  think  with  you. 

The  King  of  France  will  help  to  brealc 

it. 
Bag,  France ! 

"We  once  had  half  of  France,  and 

hurl'U  our  battles 
Into  the  heart  of  Spain ;  but  England 

now  [and  Spain, 

Is  but  a  ball  chuckM  between  France 
Uis  in  whose  hand  she  drops ;  Harry 

of  Bolincbroke 
Had  hoi  pen  Richard's  tottering  throne 

to  stand,  [our  nobles 

Could  Harry  have  foreseen  that  all 
Would  perish  ou  the  civil  slaughter- 
field,  [crown, 
And  leave  the  i>eople  naked  to  the 
And  the  crown  naked  to  the  people ; 

the  crown  [men 

Female,  too  I  Sir,  no  woman's  regi- 
Cun  save  ns.    Wo  are  fallen,  and  as  I 

think, 
Never  to  rise  again. 

Staf.     You  are   too  black-blooded. 
I'd  make  a  move  myself  to  hinder 

tliat:  [France. 

I  know   some  lusty  fellows  there  in 

IkLQ,     You    would    but   make    ua 

weaker,  Tliomas  Stafford. 

Wyatt    was   a  good   soldier,   yet  ho 

And  Btreugthen'd  Philip-  [faird, 

Staf.  Did  not  his  last  breath 

Clear    Courtcnay   and  the    Piinccss 

from  the  charge 
Of  being  his  co-rebels? 

Bag.  Ay,  but  then 

Wliatsuch  a  one  as  Wyatt  says  is 

nothing :  [Lords 

We  have  no  men  among  ns.  Tlie  new 
Are  quieted  with  their  sop  of  Abbey- 

landft,  [Gaixliner  buys  them 

And  ev'n  before  the  Queen's  face 
With  Philip's  gold.      All   greed,    no 

faith,  no  courage!  [umberland, 
Wliy.  ev'n  the  haughty  pnnco,  North- 
Tlie  leader  of  onr  lieionnation,  knelt 
And  blubber'd  like  a  lad,  and  on  the 

scaffold  [Rome. 

Becanted,     and    resold    himself     to 

Staf,    I  swear  you  do  your  country 

wrong,  Sir  Ralph. 
I  know  a  set  of  exiles  over  there. 
Daredevils,  that  would  eat  fire  and 

spit  it  out  [already. 

At  Piiilip'8  beard  :  they  pillage  Spain 
The  French  King  winks  at  it.     An 

hour  will  come 
When  they  will  sweep  her  from  the 

seas.    No  men  ?  [man  ? 

Did  not  Lord  Suffolk  die  like  a  true 
Is  not  Lord  William  Howard  a  true 

man  ?  [black-blooded 

Yea,  you  yourself,  altho'  vou  are 
And  I,  bjr  (jo<!,  l>elieve  myself  a  man. 
Ay,  even  in  the  church  there  is  a  man — 
Cranmcr. 


Fly,    would  ho  not,  when   all   men 

bade  him  fly. 
And  what  a  letter  he  wrote  against  the 

Pope? 
There's  a  brave  man,  if  any. 
Bag.  Ay ;  if  it  hold.    [Grace? ! 

Crowd  {coming  on).    God  save  their 
Staf.  Bagenhall,  I  see 

The  Tudor  sreen  and  white.    {Trum- 
pets.)   They  are  comiui;  now. 
And  here's  a  crowd  as  thick  as  her- 
ruig-shoals.  (we  are  torn 

Bag.    Be  limpets  to  this  pillar,  or 
Down  the  strong  wave  of  brawlers. 
Crowd.    God  save  their  Graces. 
[Procession  of  Trumpeters^  Jarelin- 
meUi  etc. ;  then  Spanish  and  Flem- 
ish Nobles  intermingled. 
Staf,     Worth     seeing,    Bagenhall  I 
These  black  dog-Dons 
Garb  themselves  bravely.    Who's  the 

long-face  there. 
Looks  very  Spain  of  very  Spain  ? 

Baq,  The  Duke 

Of  Alva,  an  iron  soldier. 
Staf.  And  the  Dutchman, 

Now  laughing  at  pome  jest? 
Bag.  William  of  Orange, 

William  the  Silent. 
Stqf.     Why  do  they  call  him  fo? 
Bag.    He  keeps,  they  say,  some  se- 
cret that  may  cost 
Philip  his  life. 
Staf.    But  then  ho  looks  so  merry. 
Bag.   I  cannot  tell  you  why  they  call 

him  so. 

[The  King  and  Queen  pass,  attended 

by  Peers  cf  the  Bealm,  Qfficers  of 

6tatej  efC'    Cannon  shot  off. 

Crmi^d.   Philip  and  Mary,  Philip  and 

Mary.  [Philip  and  Mar>-. 

Long     live     the    King    and  Queen, 

Staf.    Tliey  smile  as  u  content  with 

one  another. 
Bag.    A  smile  abroad  is  oft  a  scowl 

at  home. 
[Ivlng  and  Queen  xkm»  on.  Procession, 

1  CU.  I  thought  this  Philip  had 
been  one  of  those  black  devils  of  Sx>ain, 
but  ho  hath  a  yellow  beard. 

2  at.    Not  red  like  Iscariot's. 

1  at.  Like  a  carrot's,  as  thou 
sayst,  and  English  carrot's  better  than 
Spanish  licorice ;  but  I  thought  he  was 
a  beast. 

3  Cif,  Certain  I  had  heard  that 
every  Spaniard  carries  a  tail  like  a 
devil  under  his  trunk  hose. 

Tailor.  Ay,  but  see  what  trunk- 
hoses  !  Lord  !  they  be  fine  ;  I  never 
stitch'd  none  such.  They  make  amends 
for  the  tails. 

4  at.  Tut!  every  Spanish  priest 
will  tell  you  that  all  English  heretics 
have  tails. 

6  at.  Death  and  tlio  Devil— if  he 
find  I  have  one— 

4  at.  Lo !  thou  hast  call'd  them 
up  !  here  they  come— a  pale  horse  foi 
Death  and  Gavdluet  tot  Uift.  iN^xvV, 


r 


s 


^ 


StUer  Oudiner  (dtntii 


QVEEN 

Gard,    Knnre.wOtMMin-eu'lliy  mp 

before  tbe  Qneeii  ? 
Mm.    My  lonl,  1  EUind  m  squepEvil 

■muig  the  crowd  [Iiead. 

GorW.  Knodk  off  Iiiii^ap  there.  Home 
tt(  yau  nbout  liini !  [tuuids. 


No,  my  Lon],  ni 


eUB  and  flnct  tliy  Iotieoo, 
And  ihalt  be  Uiaukltul  It  1  IsaTe 


t  inliil«(l— Uii 

i  Loro7  King  Harry 
[Go,H 
!l— Terlnim— word  of 
o  vou  kuow  UiB  kna»e 
it? 
!->rd. 
;llliim  topntntitnnt. 

[lia"? 
Bpalr  ol  glm'es,iiiri 


(Kiiovrinn    th 

Onrd. 
Id  English  I 


Ford  of  God 


Gard.   Knaic,  there  be  two.    There 
be  both  King  uid  Qneen, 
Philip  aud  Mary.    Shout. 

Nay.  but,  my  Lord, 
a  tlral,    Sinn-  a»J 


I    Qnoan    r 
Philip. 


Shout, 
uid  Philip. 
.    Mary  mill  FMllp! 


1+ 


MAiir. 

Philip  and  Msry! 


Gard,  Where  ili 


Gant.  Wliere.  knii 

ttan.    Sien  of  the  Talbfil. 
Oarxt.     Come    to 


lbs  so.  my  Lon)  T 

rhiltn  and  W«y. 
I  dleCroat  IliH 

Wlwi  flint  1 
Senibbabd. 
thou  Uie? 


But  so  I    get    the   lava   nga-At.  _. 

liBreHp,  lliam  HumM, 

Spite  of  Lord  Paget  and  Lonl  Wil- 
And  otiienof  our  f arlianiflnt,  rerlisl, 
[andtln- 
I  will  Bho«  Are  on  ■dj'  Mdp— Mika 
Sharp  work  and  abml.    The  kiiiw 

areefldlycow'd. 
Follow  their  Majesdes. 


lE^I 


T»e, 


proiiil  Ba  Betltct 


Slnf-    1 _ 

dur'd  aa  Berket  wbb  ? 
Unij.    No— murder  fiith«rs  nurder ; 


Crmml  (fining  qf).         God  bbtb  t 
Sin/.     _  Dili  yon  Bee  hor  I' 

hniniUnded  iiie.  [enoi 

You  oall  me  too  blnrk-Moolol- 
Uer  dark  ileod  blood  u  In  my  h 

with  mine. 
If  cyerlcry  out  ngnii'MihePope, 
Her  dark  dead  blood  lliat  ever  ni. 

wiUimlne  hbp 

Will  stir  the  llTing  longilo  and  n 

SInf.    Yet  donbil^a  yuii  can  lei 

Unff.     SEvauteen— and   knew  eiglil 
limgiiHg™— in  music 
Peerless— lier  neeulo  perfect,  ani 


wife-like  humble  1 


Girl  never  breathed 


QUEEN  MARY, 


379 


And  said  sbe  was  condemn*d  to  die  for 
treason ;  [those 

She  had  but  follow'd  the  device  of 
Her  nearest  kin :    she    thought  they 
knew  the  laws  [law, 

But  for  herself,  she  know  but  little 
And  nothing  of  the  titles  to  the  crown; 

[her  hands, 
She  had  no  desire  for  that,  and  wrung 
And  trusted  God  would  save  her  thro* 
Of  Jesus  Christ  alone.  [the  blood 

Staf.  Pray  you  go  on. 

Bay,    Tlien  knelt  and  saiathe  Mis- 
erere Mei—  [again, 
But  all  in  English,   mark  you  ;  rose 
And,  when  the  headsman  pray'd  to 
be  forffiven,               [crown  at  last. 
Said,   *♦  You  will  give     me  my  true 
But  do  it  quickly  ; "  then  all  wept  but 
she,                                   [the  block, 
"WTio  changed  not  color  when  she  saw 
But  ask'd  him,  childlike  :    '*  Will  you 
take  it  off                   [am,"  he  said, 
Before  I  lay  me  down  ?  "    •*  No,  mad- 
Gasping  ;  and  when  her  innocent  eyes 

were  bound. 

She,  with  her  poor  blind  hands  feeling 

— '*  where  is  it?    [which  follow'd 

Where  is  it  I  "—You  must  fancy  that 

If  you  have  heart  to  do  it  I 

Crowd  {in  tlie  distance).       "God  save 

their  Graces  I 
Staf.    Their  Graces,  our  disgraces  ! 
God  confound  them  ! 
Why,  she's  grown  bloodier  I  when  I 

last  was  here. 
This    was    against   her    conscience- 
would  be  murder  I 
Hag.    The  •*  Thou  shalt  do  no  mur- 
der," which  God's  hand 
Wrote  on  her  conscience,  Mary  rubb'd 
out  pale —  [that, 

She  could  not  make  it  white— and  over 
Traced  in  the  blackest  text  of  Hell— 

"  Thou  Shalt  I " 
And  sign'd  it— Mary  ! 

Stf{f.      Philip,  and  the  Pope 
Must  have  sign'd  too.     I  hear    this 

Legate's  coming 
To  bring  us  absolution  from  the  Pope. 
The  Lords  and    Commons  will    bow 

down  before  him— 
You  are  of  the  house  ?    what  will  you 
do.  Sir  Kalph?  [than  the  rest, 

Bag.    And  why  should  1  bo  bolder 
Or  honester  than  all  ? 

Sta/.  But,  sir,  If  I— 

And  over  sea  they  say  this  state   of 
vours  [of  cardc ; 

Hath  no  more  mortise  than  a  tower 
And  that  a  puff  would  do  it— then  if  I 
And    others    made   that    move    I've 
touch'd  upon,  [landing  here, 

Back'd  by  the  power  of  France,  and 
Came  with  a  sudden  splendor,  shout, 

an<l  show. 
And  dazzled  men  and    deafen*d   by 

sonib  blight 
Loud  venture,  and  the  people  so  un- 
quiet— 


And  I  tho  race  of  murder*d  Bucking- 
ham— 
Not  for  myself,  but  for  the  kingdom- 
Sir,  [with  us. 
I  trust  that  you  would   Aght    along 
Bag.     No  ;   you  would    liing  your 
lives  into  the  gulf.          [like  to  do, 
Star.     But  if  tliis   Philip,  as  he's 
Left  Mary  a  wife-widow  here  alone. 
Set  up  a  viceroy,  sent  his    myriads 
hither                                  [make  us 
To  seize  upon  the  forts  and  fleet,  and 
A  Spanish  province;  would  you  not 
llgnt  then  ? 
Bag.    I  think  I  should  fight  then. 
Staf.                            I  am  sure  of  it. 
Hist !  there's  the  face  coming  on  here 
of  one                       [Fare  you  well, 
Who  knows  me.    I  must  leave  you. 
You'll  hear  of  me  again. 
Bag,    Upon  the  scaffold.    [Exeunt. 

Scene.  II.— i?oom  in  Whitehall  Palace. 

Mary.     Enter  Philip    and    Cardinal 
Pole. 
Pole.    Ava    Maria,     ^atia     plena, 

Benedicta  tu  in  mulieribus. 

Mary.     Loyal    and    royal    cousin, 

humblest  thanks.  [river? 

Had  you  a  pleasant  voyage  up    the 

Pole.  We  had  your  royal  oai'ge,  and 

that  same  chair. 

Or  rather  throne  of  purple,  on    the 

deck. 
Our  silver  cross  sparkled  before  tho 
prow,  [raond-dance. 

The   ripples   twinkled  at  their  dia- 
The  boats  that  follow'd,  were  as  glow- 
ing-gay [of  swans 
As   regal  gardens  ;  and  your   flocks 
As  fair  anawhite  as  angels ;  and  your 
shores  [dise. 
Wore  in  mine  eyes  the  green  of  Parar- 
My  foreigii  friends,  who  dream'd  us 
blanketed  [ed 
In  ever-closing  fog,  were  much  amaz- 
To  And  as  fair  a  sun  as  might  have 
flash'd                                [Thames ; 
Upon  their  Lake   of  Garda,  Are  the 
Our  voyage  by  sea  was  all  but  miracle  ; 

[sea. 
And  here  the  river  flowing  from  the 
Not  toward  it  (for  they  thought  not  of 
our  tides),  [glide — 

Seem'd  as  a  happy  miracle  to  make 
In  quiet— home  your  banish'd  country- 
man, [in  Flanders,  cousin. 
Mary.    We  heard  that  you  were  sick 
Pole.    A  dizziness. 
Mary.       And  how  came  vou  round 
again  ?  [saved  her  life  : 
Pole.    The  scarlet  thread  of  Kahab 
And    mine,    a    little    letting  of  the 
Mary.    Well?  now?  blood. 
Pole.       Ay,  cousin,  as  the  heathen 
giant                                [  return 'd — 
Haabut  to  touch  the  ground,  his  fore* 
Thus,  after  twenty  years  of   banish^ 
ment,  [foot. 
Feeling  my  i^tV^^  \kcA  XAXkft.'ftN^  \s£^ 


_]lou  are  E 
XiisI  baito 


QUEEN 

"All.  DAlire  land  of 

lioboldoD  to  Ihia  toot 
.fullcouuiiBBioufiDoi 

ta    turn    from    tb]-  guilt  of 

t  'UBgnioad.  mo  and  att^iiteii 


UetMskB  tbo  gooil  liuid  liaanl  me,  loc 


■Who  would  iiut 

JLnd  Siore  iroi 
Wbo  would  II 


et  Vnock-d  at  -Stan 

.  liava  risen  and  I 

(Llielioii 

e,  good  MiuglnFoli 


Emperor  inutUi  mUraJoed 


■mio,w(utlnBll3111ii 

Makes  me  bis  moutl 
-     wbter  ot  God,  i 


u  eVnthe  •Ailol 
1  time  bud  rlpeii'd, 
[•■Hail, 
1  of  boly  greeling. 
iiid  BUTer  of   tbe 


Sit  bciiodlotUB  rmutiu  rsnlcls  tui  I  " 
■    Jl/nTB.    All,  lioaven  I 

Pale.  Unwell,  yfmr  grace  ? 

jtfnrj.  No,  louBin,  Lappy— 

Happy  to  KGB  ]•'»'  =  never  }'et  bo  luippy 

Pole.  Sweet  cousin,  70U  forget 

TUat  lona  low  miiutor  wlier j  you  gavo 

To  this  great  Catbolic  Elng. 

Pki.  Well  Bald,  l*rd  Legate. 

itary.  Nay,  not  well  sidd ;  J  Ibouglit 
of  you,  i^y  liege, 
Ev'n  aa  1  epoke. 

Phi-       Ay,  Madnm  ;  my  Lord  Paget 
'^Vnita  to  preMUt  our  Couocil  to  ibo 

It  dowii  burc,  all;  3Iadam,  betweau 

I^le.    Lo,  now  you  aro  encloiediritll 

Our  little  Bister  of  Uie  Son^  of  Soiini  t 
"  a  are  dnnbly  teuood  aiiJ  Blilolilcd 

tweeu  QiQ  two  moat  bigli-est  thrones 

onaarlb,  [boll'.lliy 

The  Emparor'fl  htghneBB  liajipllv  sym- 

Tba  King  your  hiuband,  lie  fopo's 

By  mine  own  self.  [Hollneia 

Mani.   True,  couBin,  lam  happy. 

-nOien^lU  yuu  that  we  Bummou  bath 


MARY. 

I'll':.     Ill    Eritain'»    calonftir  I 
briEhUat  day  (Llioli  tlet 

BebeliTour  touEh  foicfatlicis  bie 
Aiid  tlsap  the  Oitli  in  Chtiat  i  l.. 
after  that  [pleMiUyr 

Miriit  not  St.  Andrew-  '"  '—  • — 
Jtuni.    Tlien  tliase  a 
St.  Aiidrew'a  day. 

Enltr  Paget,  trhn  prt»mft  fit  flwii- 

cil.    UuDib  sAoa. 

Pole.    1  am  ail  old  maa  wearied  wUb 

myjonnicy,  twilhdrair 

Ev'u  Willi    my  joy.      Peiniit    ma  u 

To  Ijimbelh  ?  [Cnminet 

PIU.  Ay,  Lambelli  has  ouglad 

It  was  not  iiieel    ihe    Iiaretic  awint 

111  I.ambeili.  (dhouldtln) 

MoTji.    ITiero  or  anywhere,  or  at  alL 

PM.    Wo    have    liad  It  awept  and 

gamish'd  after  him. 
Poii.    NoC  for  the  seven  dertla  Is 
enter  in  ?  [In  the  awlDB. 

Phi.    No,  foe  WB  tmat  they  putad 
Pall?.    True,  and  I  am  me  Angel  of 
Farewell,  your  Gracee.        [Ihe  Pops. 
'■"  Nay,  not  here— to  Bu; 

th  yon  to  Uie  watenlde. 
_  .  .       _  ot  lie   my  Charon  to  tlu 

counter  Bide? 
Phi.    No,  my  Lord  I.egate,  the  latd 

Cliancellor  icoeB,             , 
Pnlt.    And  nnlo  110  dead  world ;  but 
Lambecti  palac  


ill  my  lour 
The  great   uiibom  delBudei   of  Iha 


Iwlllgt 


1  avenge  m 
a,aiid:^my 


Tlie  proud  amt 

And   nil   her    fieri  eat 


10  light  of  tbla  1 
>e  gSoata  of  Lul 


dlJona  of  Elizabeth. 
tandiUt 


lUier  Bud  Z 


Into  Ihe  deathleBB  bell  whi«ti  ts  Ibelr 
DcTore  my  atat !  [lolnil' 

Jiia  Bceptre  ahall  go  forth  fivm  liiJ 
HisBword  Bhs]ltiewihiibereti?|i«n>l(* 
down  I  tirtlftoWi, 

Hia  faith  shall  elotbe  tbe  worlil  Ui>k 
LIka  iiniverBal  airaii J  susalitue  I  Op*"- 
Ye  everlasting  gaua !  The  King  H 
My  Mar,  my  »n  T  [beio  1— 

Snler  FblHp,  Piike  of  Alva,  rA-. 


QUEEN 

Good  nan  have  1  to  tell  vou,  iiewi  to 
make  |tM>. 

loUi  of  us  IjBppy— ay  the  Kineiloiu 


S%3  come  will 
Phi.  {to  Alvj 


o  ie  free  enoitgU  In 
iug,    Vouwll1&.we 

[iiiceB— 
cen>;  of  (hoie  prov- 
bis  Burnanie  better. 

Aj-.Bir; 
Silenca. 

muBt  be  liurdly 

«ie>  :  [Bglit : 

Alul  fpr  tlielt  hereeieg,  Alva,,  tliay  will 
You  niiut  break  tbem  or  tbey  break 


Inherit  the  Great  E 

Phi.  I 

Are  liuil  to  rale 

ruled; 
Moat  fruitful,  yet, 


■hi.    Good! 


be  sung  ;  [berbsbol 

.The  Qnoeii  hath  felt  the  motion  o( 

3  Page.    Ay  ;    but  see  here  1 

1  Pait.  See  what? 

1  Fa<K.  TbU  pa  per,  Dickon. 

I  found  It    fluttering   nt  the    paluce 

gates :—  [of  n  deail  tiog  I " 

"TLB  Queen  ot  England  ts  dellvercil 

3  Page.    These  ais  tholblugs  that 

madden  lier.    Fie  upon  it. 

1  I'age.    Ay ;  but  1  bear  ebfl  h.ath  a 

drOMy,  la<l,  [iMill  it. 

Or    a    LtglHlropsy,    as     the    iWtorg 

SPatK-     Flf     ■     '-  ■ - 


reailr 


'W! 


heedl 


S  Page.    So 

1  J-atie.  Not  I. 

And  wbeilwr  tliia  flaah  of   news  be 

false  or  true, 
Sotlieninerun.Bndtlwrebe  revelry, 
(Jontent  am  1 .    liCI  all  the  Bteeplea 

Till  UieBundaneo,(isupoaEaal«rI>ay. 

ScENS  III.— RreoC  Hall  in  Whitehall 
lAt  Iht  fat  nut  a  dait.  On  thii  thm 
chairtt  two  ntultr  one  cannjry  for 
Mary  a\ul  PlilUp,  attrAkeT  oii  the  right 
^Ikeie fur I'tiia,  L'nderlhe  cfauon 
rulo'B  aii'e,  Taageit  alo»g  Ikt  aall, 
lit  alt  the  HpiritiuU  Peer),  and  along 
the  wall  tippotite^  alt  the  TeiHwfral. 
The  Commoat  m  eroM  lenelet  in 
ftoal,  a  line  qf  approach  to  the  dai$ 


lieiiBten  them.  7b  IhefarfgmunilSU 
lUliib  BagenbflU  and  other  SlembeM 

1  JIItBi.  St.  Andrew's  day ;  alt  eloaa, 
siteloee,  a-e  are  friends,      (again? 

a  reeonctled  tlie  word?  The  Poi^ 
tuiHBtbothna;  anil  yet,  cockBbody  ! 
LowBtrango  [of  ur 

Lliat  Gardiner,  once  fo  oue  wiih  nl 
IgatuatthlB  foreign  marriaEc.  abouk 
have  Yielded  _    [stiritbat  lie, 

io  fleiee  agahiBt  the  HcadBhip  of  {he 

Pope,  Ipageai 

Jioulrfplay  the  aeeond  actor  i,i  tl. 
rhat  bringB  iiim  iu ;  auch  aobametat 

2  Mca.     TlilB  Gardiner  turu'd  L 
coat  in  Ileno'H  lime: 

"he  serpent  tiiot  buih  iilou^lrd  nl 
Blough  again.  Iponts. 

3  ^fem.  'fiit,  then  we   are  allaer- 

2  Mtm.  Speak  tor  yourself. 

3  Jlfm.Ay.andforGatdluer!  being 

low  Bhould  he  bear  a  Ijrldegroom  out 

of  Spain? 
He  Queen  wontd  have  him  I    being 

"—'■-"  inn        [tl " 

;r  the  lies 


^ulptor  clay, 


The  Que. 

tliat  Itrv  niBD 
Shape  a  necessity ,  ai 
To  uielr  own  nioilel. 

Take  truth  Lerself  for  model,  what  say 

■  Sir  Ralph  Biurenball. 

andlalk.  [talk? 

Ay,  andwhat  uaolo 

len  alien— the  Queen's 


1  jffcm. 
Phllip'a  noau 

husband. 
He's  here,  an. 


will  b 


late;  [myyouncl 

My  Beven-yoarB'  friend  was  with 
Out  crept  a  waap,  with  half  the  b.v 

behind.  (r( 

"PhlUp,''  says  he.  I  had  to  cull 
For  Infant  ireoeon. 

3  .Mem.          But  they  »ay  that  b 
It  any  creeping  life  invsda  their  I 

And  bind  him  in  from  harmlni 
A  iHl  I'hilip  by  thoBo  ariicles  1*  bo 
From  sllrrlng  baud  or  feet  tu  »i 

2  Mem.    By  bonila  of  becawai, 


You  wrong  the  Clmliec 

oa  added 
To  that  same  treaty  which  the  empi> 
Were  mahily  Ganliner'ii ;  that  no  Co 


QUEEN  MARY, 


883 


Ye  have  reversed  the  attainder  laid 
on  us  [and  we, 

By  him  who  sacked  the  hoase  of  God ; 
Amplier  than  any  field  on  our  poor 
earth  [sown, 

Can  render  thanks  in  fruit  for  being 
Do  here  and  now  repay  you  Bixty-foldj 
A  hundred,  yea,  a  thousand  thousand 
With  heaven  for  earth.  [fold, 

iltising  and  atretcliing  forth  his 
lianaa.  All  kneel  biit  Sir  Ralph 
Bagenhall,  who  rises  and  remains 
standing. 

The  Lord  who  hath  redeem'd  us 
With  his  own  blood,  and  wash'd  us 
from  our  sins,  [bride  ; 

To  purchase    for  liimself  a  stainless 
He,  whom  the  Father  hath  appointed 
Head  [absolve  you  ! 

Of  all  his  church,  He  by  His  mercy 

{A  pause. 
And  we  by  that  authority  Apostolic 
Given  unto   us,  his  Legate,  by  the 

Pope, 
Our  Lord  and  Holv  Father,  Julius, 
God's    Vicar    and    Vicegerent    upon 

earth, 
Do  here  absolve  you  and  deliver  you 
And  every  one  of   you,  and  all  the 

realm 
And  its  dominions  from  all  heresy. 
All  schism,  and  from  all  and  every 
censure,  [upon ; 

Judgment,  and  pain  accruing  there- 
And  also  we  restore  you  to  the  bosom 
And.unity  of  Universal  Church. 

{Turning  to  Gardiner. 
Our  letters  of  commission  will  declare 
this  plainlier. 
[Queen    lieard    sobbing.      Cries    of 
Amen !  Amen  !   Some  qf  the  mem- 
bers embrace  one  another.    All  but 
Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall  pass  out  in- 
to the  neighboring  chapelfWiience 
is  Jieard  the  Te  Deum, 
Bag.    We  strove  against  the  papacy 
from  the  first,  [ward's  time. 

In  William's  time,  in  our  first  Kd- 
And  in  my  master  Henry's  time ;  but 

now. 
The  unity  of  Universal  Church, 
Marv  would  have  it;   and  this  Gar- 
diner follows  ; 
The  Unity  of  Universal  Hell, 
Philip  would  have  it;  and  this  Gar- 
diner follows ! 
A  Parliament  of  imitative  apes  ! 
Sheep    at   the    gap    which   Gardiner 
takes,  who  not  believe — 

Believes  the  Pope,  nor  any  of  them 
These  spaniel-Spaniard  English  of  the 
time,  [dust, 

Who  rub  their  fawning  noses  in  the 
For  that  is  Philip's   gold-dust,  and 

adore 
This  Vicar  of  their  Vicar.    Would  I 

had  been 
Bom  Snaniard  !  I  had  held  my  head 
up  then, 


I  am  ashamed  that  I  am  Bagenhall, 
English. 

Enter  OflBcer. 
Of.  Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall, 

Jiag.  What  of  that? 

Of,    You  were  the  one  sole  man  in 
either  house  [houses  fell. 

Who  stood   upright   when   both    the 
JJag.    The  houses  fell ! 
0/.  I  mean  the  houses  knelt 

Before  the  Legate. 

Itag.     Do  not  scrimp  your  phrase, 
But  stretch  it  wider ;  say  when  Eng- 
land fell.  [man  who  stood. 
Of.     I  say  you  were  the  one  sole 
Jbag.     I  am  the   one  sole  man  in 
either  house  [a  son. 
Perchance  in  England  loves  her  like 
Of.     Well,  you  one  man,  because 
you  stood  upright,    [to  the  Tower. 
Her  Grace  the  Queen  commands  you 
i?a<7.    As  traitor,  or  as  heretic,  or 
for  what  ?  [be 
Of.    If  any  man  in  any  way  would 
The  ono  man  he  shall  be  so  to  Ids 
cost. 
Uar/.    What  I    will    she    have    my 

head  ? 
Of.  A  round  fine  likelier. 

Your  pardon.       [Calling  to  Attendant, 
By  the  river  to  the  Tower. 

lExeunt. 

Scene  IV.—  Whitehall.     A  room  in 
the  Palace. 

Mary,      Gardiner,      Pole,     Paget, 

Bonner,  etc- 

Mary.    The  king  and  I,  my  Lords, 

now  that  all  traitors       [the  heads 

Against  our    royal    state   have    lost 

Wherewith  they  plotted  in  their  trear 

sonous  malice. 
Have  talk'd  together  and   are   well 
agreed  [lardism 

That  those  old  statutes  touching  Lol- 
To  bring  the   heretic  to   the   stake, 
should  be  [quicken'd. 

No    longer    a   dead    letter,   but  re- 
One  qfthe  Council.    Why,  what  hath 
fluster'd  Gardiner  ?  how  he  rubs 
His  forelock. 
Paget,  I  have  changed  a  word 

with  him  [again. 

In  coming,  and  may  change  a  word 
Card.     Madam,  your  Highness  is 
our  sun,  the  King  [one  ; 

And  you  together  our   two  suns  in 
And  so  the  beams  of  both  may  shine 
upon  us,  [feel  your  light. 

The  faith  that  seem'd  t.)  droop  will 
Lift  head,  and  flouiish  ;  vet  not  light 
alone,  (heat  enough 

There  must  be  hent  —  there  must  be 
To  scorch  and  wither  heresy  to  the 
root.  [to  come  in.'* 

For  what  saith  Christ  ?  **  Compel  them 
And  what    saith  Paul?     **1  would 
they  were  cut  oflf  [ter  live  I 

ThaX  ttoubVe  "sou.   *^  \ifc\»  >Oa!fe  ^^aft^VJ^ 


t 


V 


n  flie,  lliat  nil  Mus 


QUEEN 


■    heretics 


quHsh  lebEllioi 


..L"* 


onlail  In  Queon  Msry.    Solhi 
a    lor-  are   c,      9re      "^s^auji 

ia  tbe  lives  ot  otben  Uiat  aia 
t^    tbG    cliurdiinhD'B    plLIloBS 

but  »  UianhlesB  policy  in  the 


WatchM  chiWieii  iilajing  it  their  ll£o 
"rQo"l»Ht,ltinin| 


ling  lielplQBB  fliFX 
lUfimM  f..r  niiBl 


— miBbt 

Iknow.  [sUuElhoaoin- 

6^111,     'We  liltl   Uie  liarelivi>  tliac 

•Xhej,  n-lUi   rigliC  T«atou,  tHea  Uiat 

prlcll  the  fleih. 

Pagrl.    They  had  not  reach'il  rinht 

restnn;  little  children ! 

They  klllM  but  Im  Uielt  pICMnra  anci 

Thej  fait  In  killing.  [the  power 

Ganl.  A  epTce  oE  Satan,  ha  [ 

Why,  good  I  wliat  then  V    ErantuU  I — 


Look  1 


",S 


rv  fallen  .;..^^Lu. .IK 
youc  Bible.  Pagat !   ve  oib 
II.  tl«nl  Biihop, 

but  of  the  laity,  my 
and  your  Blbls,  yetl 


PniiH.  The  taultlesB  Oardlnvr ! 

iiarjl-    Ton  brawl  beyond  the  quea- 

tloiii  spesk,  Lord  Lesate. 
Potf.    Indeed,  I  caQiu!  follow  with 

yonr  Orore,  \iurt,'Wi\\ 


MARY. 

The  sheep  that  wander  from  his  flod 
but  sands  [  -  - 

Hln  careful  do2  tolirltig  themle 
Look  tothelieiherluidii,  wberelu 


Gard.    The  eud's  m 

Pole.    So— nor  this  way  will  mm., 
Seeing  there    lie  two  woyi   to  eieiy 

A  better  and  a  wotse — the   wOfM  ll 
Toperseuute,  beeauee  la  iiersetule 
Makes  a  fa4Ui  haled,  and  is  fuilliBt> 

No  perfect  wlUieM  of   D  perfocc  faiUi 
In  lllm  who  pcnetiutes:  vhcb  men  art 

On  tldaa  of  strange  oninion.  uxl  not 
Of  Ihelc  o»ii  aclvos,  Uiey  are  wniUi 

with  tlielr  own  ietyea. 
And  UiancB  with  others;  thai,  Bta 

Itriits  the  fngot  ? 
Not  the  fnU  fajUi,  ud,  but  the  Iniklu 

doubt.  [Ihe  Cburdi. 

Old  Konie,  that  flrst  made  niarlyn  in 
Trembled  for  her  own  cods,  for  tJKM 

were  ttembUnn- 
But  wheu  did  out  KoiDo  tremble? 

I-aget.  Uidsheoot 

111  Henry's  time  oud  Edward  *  " 


A  pine  in  Italy  that  ci 


Of  heresy  to  the  pit :  ttie 
Yoii  see,  my  LonJa, 
It  was  the  shadow  of  Ibe  n 
■your  ehurtOi  was  but  he  t 
Wanting  tba  triple  mltie        n 
Gatil.    [BintfrHtte).    Here  l>e    r 
Pole.    And  tropes  are  gwjd  u 
a  naked  truth. 
And  make  it  look  more  seemly 


QUEEN 
Ot  these  mlsleadsn,  yet  I  vonld  uoC 

Bum !   tuid   -we   cannot  bncn   vbote 
totms  ;  tlie;  are  many 

Ab  my  Lord  Paget  aajs. 
Oard.  Yet  my  lard  CBrdlnal— 

Folt.    I  am  your  Legate  ;  pleaso  job 


WeiuittbtgoBOltUerUumwithciir 

rowel  [Henry  first 

And  BtresmLng  lash.  When  Herod- 
negan  to  batter  at  yogrEnglialiChurfh 
Tla&   WM  the   caaae,  and  licuce   tho 

judgment  on  Ler. 
Elio  leetbed  nltti  Buch  adullfiiies,  and 
thelJTSB  [sofoul 

That  heaven  wept  andeartli  blUBh'd. 

That  we  should  thoroughly  cleanse  the 
Church  within  [quick  eu'd. 

Before   tlieee   hitter  statutes    he   re- 
So  after  that  wlieu  aha  once  more  la 
Been  tot  Christ, 

White  »s  the  licht,  the  apoti.Hia  l>rlde 
Like  Christ  hiuiBelt   on   Tabor,  pos- 
sibly [again  ; 
The   Lutheran   may  be  von   to  her 
Till  when,  mj  Lorda,  I  counsel  toler- 
aiice.                        [hand  my  Lord^ 
Oard.    What  If  a  mad  doa  bit  jout 
Would  you  not  chop  the  bitten  finger 
off,                         [wlththopipiBoii? 
teat  your  whole  hotly  ahould  inadileii 
I  woiud  not,  were  1  QueeD,  tolerate  the 

Nn.  not  an  honr.    The  rttlet  ot  a  land 
Is  power  and  place  to 
[theuit 
Dt  polson'd.    Tolerate 
Why 7  do  tnoy  tolerate  you?     Nay, 
many  of  them  [call  they  not 

iiie  one  true  faith,  a  loaUtsome  iilol- 
woiBliip  ?  [crime 

Beware.  Lord    Ijegals.  of  a  heavier 
Tlian  heresy  is  Itself  ;  beware  I  say, 
Lese  men  accuse  you  of  Indifference 
To  all  faith. alt  religion;  foryonknow 
Itight  well  that  you  yourself  nave  been 

supposed 
TaliiteirwilhLutlienHilsm  In  Italy. 
rale  (onocmt).    But  yon,  my  Lop 


la  bound 


ibyl 


With  that  lile  Ctaamer 

Of  good  Queen  Catherl 
Of  all  those  evilB  that  ha 


t  Qve  yean  o 
Lord 

nis   gross   J 


my  Lord  [sCsr'dut 

Dnder  younjt  Edward.     Who  so  boV 
"^ King's   Jftftdship   of    Uk 


But  you,  my  Lord, 
A  bookman,  flying 


Ua!  wbati  eh? 

\  polish'd  gentle 

^uasle 

:Tnn  the  heat  and 

your  Tines    and 

Tiderl    Vou"wBi^ 
,  but  you  still  pre- 


YoD,  Lord 

Leaatfl  ['    " 

And  (Suilinal-Deaoon,  have  ii..  . 
That  cT'n  St.  Fetei  In  Ma  time  of  fear 
Denied  hla  Master,  ay,  and  thrice 

Lord,  t ' 

Pole,    Bat  not  tor  : 
Gonf,    Ha  I  good ! 


And  lel!  this   earned  Legate  he  lacka 

The  Church's  evil  L«  not  as  the  Kin^s, 
Cannot  be  heal'd  by  strolling.     Ilia 

mad  bite  fat  onco- 

MuBt  have  the  cautery — tell  him — and 
What  wouldBt  thou  do  hadat  thou  big 

power,  thou  [with  me. 

That  lareflt  so  long  In  heretic  bonds 
Wouldat  thou  not  bum  and  blast  them 

root  and  branch  ? 
Boa.    Ay,  after  yoil,  my  Lord. 
Carrf.    Say,  God's  pabsioii,  before 

me  !  speak.  [flame. 


Our  good   Que 

Even    wbeu   h 
Head  fell- 


Ot   England  ?     : 

thine  anecr 
Than  any  chfld!  ' 


cousin -dallytag 

(noble  mother's 

irother's,    nay,  hla 


"tl™"^™- 
_  [the  spring 

f  tyrant, 

-you  yoarseU  have  truckled  to  tlie 
d  done  your  best  to  bflslardito  out 
" [fell  upon  you 


Like  dogs  t 

Fall,  wlieu  iiis  thief  la  ev'n  within  the 
walls  [Chancellor, 

To  worrying  one  another.    My  Lord 

You  liave  an  old  trltk  of  oifemltn- 
na ;  (with  u 

And  but  Ihat  vou  are  art  ami  pai. 

In  purging  heresy,  well  we  might,  for 
this  [the  Legate-, 

Tout  violence  and  much  roughnesc  '- 


will  let  jou 
In   bceedlnti 


__«  aecordiijie  to  our 

Qousin.  tiiielit. 

fExeitnl  Queen  onit  Pole,  etc. 

I.     Polo  lias  the    Plantaaeuet 

't.  [miglitleit  lanttt. 

Bres— but    msluicholv,    inen- 

,&-  [Uiieb*flnL 

beard,    Bonnat,  a  torj   full 


rd:^nt 


ihl9  0ld>ieretlc8l  ts 


TdduU  him 

Ue'llbnmaiUtKeH  lo  pro- 

tllodo»T.  [U 

And    let  him  fall  me  true 

I    kept    my  liead   Cor   use 
And  see  you,  we  shall  lukTs 


liTeCtho  Pope  tiample'oDr^Kiiu, 
fiat     iuLo     out   lalanij 


[put  ill  for 

fan  may  thi 

you  bold  Ibe  Pdi 

1  lioia  iha  Pt 

bold  him?  ivbaldo  I  1 

jpe?  [Carrtlnnl'B  fau.- 

Come,  come,  the  morael    ntuck— thii 


lud    tbBC    hit 
purge  Ms  ( 


ighly 


IhaT 


fori 


boll; 


riteriy  OL .. 
The  Eternal 

Crown'd '»Ibtb  of  slaves, 
Qod  upon  earth  !  nhat 

would  you  bavef 
Hence,  let's  be  gone. 

Ealer  Vabir. 

Uih.    ■Well  lliat  joo  I 

My  Lord.    The  Queen,  m 


.liogether  for  the  Pope, 

' ol  the  changelesa 

[klngof&ugs. 


MARY. 

HlBbearbigiaao  cotiitlT  aelimie : 

And  yet  iiielblnka  he  lalteiai  it 

two  Gtfteea  [W 

So  press  on  lUiu  Uis  doty  "which 
l.egntB  (myal  smile 

He    owes    hliuselE,     and    with    su 
Ganl.    Smiles  f       ■ 
Iter,  tt  will  be 

He  fnlten.  bit  ?  ■! 

LreSo'w'd  and  oldT  the 

diiiiga  at  all  [an  ta 

7e  noHHi  must  do  it  qolckly:  It  If 
'[  brle(  life,  ana  brief  pBrptse,  imi 

(uty  patience,  (fcult 

si  have  shown  in-dar.  I  un  khtt 
;  Pole  be  like  to  turn.    Ouroldtrieui 


e  knows  not  where  ha  standi  whfcli, 

itthispsBi.  I'eiu  look  1(1  U, 

re  two  shnll  have  to  leach  lilm  i  in 

canmer  and  Hoopet,  Btdley  and  Lst- 


Queen 
To  cravp  most : 
Eojal,  Intalliiil 


[nMl       ■ 

e  nardon— of  biBi  ^B 

>Bl  Leaoie-'mulnt^^l 

[£nwS^H 

In  VTalUng.  ^ 


SCESE  v.—  IToorffftxt. 

Bliiabelh,  Lady  In  VTalUng. 

tadi/.    The .  colon  of  our  QDem  an 

Ihase  Beldaare  only  green,  Ihcyniike 

Elis.    '/here's  a  whiteihom,  dil. 

Latlg.  Ayjforauliourln  Unj. 

But  court  la  alwuys  May,  buOe  out  in 

Bleaks  Into  featht 


In  sllkei 


Why  stfil  suspect  your  Ci 
£iii.    Hard  npoii  both. 


Much  suspected,  ttfnm 
Not  king  uroren  i-m  6~ 
Qvoth  Elimbttk,  p 
Lady.    What   I     " 


LtuW-    Cut  wllh  a  dlamcmd  t  u  K 

Iwt  like  traih.  _ 

LaH'g.     t'ut    1 


QUEEN  MARY. 


387 


That  comes  and  goes  in  uttering. 

Eliz.  Truth,  a  word  I 

The  very  Truth   and  very  Word  are 
one.  [at,  girl. 

But  truth  of  story,  which  I  glancea 
Is  like  a  word  that  comes  from  olden 
days,  [tongue 

And  passes  thro'  the  peoples  :   every 
Alters  it  passing,  till    it   spells  and 

speaks 

Quite  other  than  at  first. 

Lculy.  I  do  not  follow. 

Eliz.    How  many  names  in  the  long 

sweep  of  time  [but  hang 

That  so  foreshortens  greatness,  may 

On  the  chance  mention  of  some  fool 

that  once 
Brake  bread  with  us,  perhaps ;   and 
my  poor  chronicle  [field 

Is  but  of   glass.    Sir  Henry  Beding- 
May  split  it  for  a  spite. 

Lculy.  God  grant  it  last. 

And  witness  to    your   Grace's  inno- 
cence, 
Till  doomsday  melt  it. 

Eliz.  Or  a  second  fire, 

like  that  which  lately  crackled  under- 
foot [glass, 
And  in  this  very  chamber,  fuse  the 
And  char  us  back  again  into  the  dust 
We    spring   from.     Never     peacock 

against  rain 
Scream'd  as  you  did  for  water. 

Lady.  And  I  got  it. 

I  woke  Sir  Henry— and  he's  true  to 

you— 
I  read  his  honest  horror  in  his  eyes. 
Eliz.    Or  true  to  you  ? 
Lady.  Sir  Henry  Bedingfield ! 

1  will  have  no  man  true  to  me,  your 
Grace,  [the  clown  ! 

But  one  that  pares  his  nails  ;  to  me  ? 
For,  like  his  cloak,  his  maimers  want 
the  nap  [says, 

And  gloss  of  court ;  but  of  this  fire  he 
Nay  swears,  it  was  no  wicked  wilful- 
ness, 
Only  a  natural  chance. 

Eliz.  A  chance— perchance 

One  of  those  wicked  wilf  uls  that  men 
make,  [know 

Nor  shame  to  call  it  nature.    Nay,  I 
They  hunt  my  blood.     Save  for  my 
daily  range  [Writ 

Among  the    pleasant  fields  of  Holy 
I  might  despair.    But  there  hath  some 

one  come ; 
The  house  is  all  in  movement.   Hence, 
and  see. 

[Exit  Lady. 
Milkmaid  (singing  without). 

Shame  upon  yoUj  Jiobin, 

Shame  upon  you  nmo  ! 
KiM  me  would  you  ?  with  my  hands 

Milking  the  coto  ? 

Daisies  grow  again^ 

Kingcups  hlmo  again, 
And  yon  came  and  Jnsi'd  me  milking 
the  cow. 


EoUn  came  behind  me, 

Kiss*d  me  well  I  vow; 
Cuff  him  could  I  ?  with  my  hands 

Milking  the  cow  ?  . 

Swallows  fly  again, 

Cuckoos  cry  again. 
And  you  came  and  kiss'd  me  milking 
the  cow. 

Come,  Hobin,  Bobin, 

Come  and  kiss  me  now : 
Help  it  can  I  ?  with  my  hands 

Milking  the  cow  ? 

Jiingdoves  coo  again, 

All  things  woo  again. 
Come  behind  and  kiss  me  milki,ng  the 
cow. 

EHz.  Bight  honest  and  red-cheek'd  ; 
Bobin  was  violent, 
And  she  was  crafty— a  sweet  violence, 
And  a  sweet  craft.    1  would  1  were  a 

milkmaid,  [bake,  and  die, 

To   sing,    love,   marry,  churn,  brew, 
Then   have  my  simple   headstone  by 

the  church, 
And  all  things  lived  and  ended  hon- 
estly. 
I  could  not  if  I  would.    I  am  Harry's 

daughter  :  [are  not  sweet. 

Gardiner  would  have  my  head.    They 
The  violence  and  the   craft  that  do 

divide  [must  lie ; 

Tlie  world  of  nature  ;   what  is  weak 
The  lion  needs  but  roar  to  guard  his 

young  ;  [they  are  there. 

Tl)e  lapwuig  lies,  says  "  here "  when 
Threaten   the   child ;    *•  I'll    scourge 

you  if  you  did  it."  [soft  tongue. 
What  weapon  hath  the  child,  save  his 
To  say,  "1  did  not?"  and  my  rod's 

the  block. 
I  never  lay  my  head  upon  the  pillow 
But  that  1  think,  *♦  Wilt  thou  lie  there 

to-moiTow  ?  "  [fell, 

How  oft  the  falling  axe,  that  never 
Hath  shock'd  me  back  into  the  day- 
light truth  [black,  dead 
That  it  may  fall  to-day  !  Those  damp. 
Nights  in  the  Tower  ;  dead— with  the 

fear  of  death—  [of  a  hell. 

Too  dead  ev'n  for  a  death-watch  !  Toll 
Stroke  of  a  clock,  the  scurrying  of  a 

rat 
Affrighted  me,  and  then  delighted  me. 
For  there  was  life— And  there  was  life 

in  death—  t^igiit, 

Tlie  little  murder'd  princes,  in  a  pale 
Kose   hand  in  hand,  and   whisper'd, 

"come  away, 
Tlie  civil  wars  are  gone  forevermore : 
Thou  last  of  all  the  Tudors,  come  away 

[was  a  dream ; 
With  us  is  peace!"  The  last?  It 
I  must  not  dream,  not  wink,  but  watch. 

She  has  gone,  [by 

Maid   Marian  to  her  Bobin— by  and 
Both  happy  !  a  fox  may  filch  a  Hen  by 

night,  [yard ; 

And  make  a  morning  ou.tAr^  ^sl'VX^^ 


Tlial  I  wBia  caUBbt,  buA  ktlld  away 

alonce  [(iardlner, 

Ont  ot  Uie  HntlCT.    Tbo  grey  rogaa, 

Weill  on  hlH  kueer!,  auU  piay'il  me  1o 

In  Wyatt's  buniness,  ami  to  cast  my- 
Upon  Uia  good  Oueou'8   mercy ;    »y, 


» 


with 


£Hltr  Sir  Ueiiiy  BadUigUeld. 

Bed.  One,  wliow  iJOlt 

Tliat  iall  JOQ  from  free  life,  bar  yqi 

fixiiD  daath.  [Iierenbou 

Tliero    luiuit    Bona    Faplal .  Ttullau 

mu.  I  ttiank  foaheorllly.Rii 

AuJ  QoaiiUb'btaBtor  cuited 

Toar  boot!  nto  from  tlxe  lionei 

-fled.  Ay.  ir . 

'Wlien  next  tbero  comes  a  inlsBlvr: 

It    Bliall   be    all  my  Muily   tor    dob 
Tu  rose  uij  laveuiler  my  liorai.iflsa, 
Ustore  1  daio  to    gluica  upon  your 

Orace.  [time  she  wroia, 

JUl'a.  A  minlTD  from  llie  Queen  :  lasc 

I  bad  like  lo  have  loaC  my  Ufa  :  it 

Uikes  my  brentb  :  [boota, 

O  God,  <ir,  do  you  look  upon  jouc 
Are  ytiu  bo  email  B.  man  ?  Help  me  : 
It  It  lire  OF  death?  fwhab  think,  van. 
■■  '      ■  tbouglit 


I  tldnk  tbore  may  be  birdlime  bem  tat 

ms  :  [Uio  realui; 

IthlTikCheyfBinwonlilhnTD  ma  tlOB 

I  think  the  Uueeu  may  never  bear  > 

child  1  (queen. 

1  think  that  I  may  bo  some  tliaa  tin 

Then,    Queen     InJetiil :    no    forelfii 

piinoe  or  pries  Itheatepk 

Should  HU   my  throne,  myself  upm 

1  think  I  wfll  ITOt  marry  any  one, 

Spociully  not  this  la4^dl«u    PhiUbeit 

01  Savor  ;  but,  IF  Philip  meDaee  me, 

I   think   thai  I  vill  iiloy  with  Flilli- 


mother, 
For  f  aai  of  Spain. 


1th  mine, 
nij  gonl 


cr  lady. 


O  Lord  1  TOUT  Qan, 
.      .  .      M,  iBhallKy 

I  feel   BO  happy ;   it  e«ema  that  m 

Tbe«a  bald,  hfaiik  Held),  and  daaee 

into  the  eun 
That  shlnea  on  piincoB. 

I  wlab'd  tnyielf  the  milkmaid  rlDgtag 

To  kiss  and  cuff  among  the  birdaanil 


E  EoWn  took  her  at 


For  the  wrong  EoWi 
Then  the  row  klck'd, 

wa*  enllt. 

ir  Highnew  aiKh  a  milkmaid? 


QUEEN  MARY. 


389 


Enter  Beiiord. 
Ren.,    My  Lords,  yoa  cannot  see  her 

Ik^.    Why  then  the  King!  for  I 

would  have  him  bring  it  [Queen, 
Home  to  the  leisure  wisdom  of  liis 
Before  he  go,  that  since  these  statutes 

past.  [his  heat, 

Gardiner  ont-Gardiners  Gardiner  in 
Bonner  cannot  out-Bonner   his  own 

self—  [dren  do. 

Beast !— but  thev  play  with  Urc  as  chil- 
And  bum  the  nouse.     I  know  that 

these  are  breeding  [in  men 

A  fierce  resolve  and  fixt  heart-hate 
Against  the  King,  tho  Queen,  the  Holy 

Fatlier, 

Tho  faith  itself.    Can  I  not  see  him? 

Jiti^  Not  now. 

And  in  all  tliis,  my  Lord,  her  Majesty 

Is  flint  of  flint,  you  may  strike  Are 

from  her,  [your  message. 

Kot  hope  to  melt  her.     I  will  give 

[  Exeunt  Pctro  and  Howard. 

Enter  Philip  (musing). 

Phi,    She  will  not  have  Prince  Phili- 

bcrt  of  Savoy,  [she  will  live 

I     talk'd    with    her    in    vain— says 
And  die  true  maid— a  goodlv  creature 

too  [she  must  have  him  ; 

Would  ihe  had  been  the  Queen!  yet 
She    troubles     England:    that     she 

breathes  in  England 
Is  life  and  lungs  to  every  rebel  birth 
That  paaaes  out  of  embryo. 

Simon  Renard  !— 
This  Howard,  whom  they  fear,  what 

was  he  saying  ?     [sidd^  my  liege, 
Ren.     What  your  imperial    father 
To  deal  with  heresy  geutlier.     Gar- 
diner bums,  [this  people 
And  Bonner  bums  ;  and  itwoula  seem 
Care  more  for  our  brief  life  in  their 

wet  laud  [my  Lord 

Than  yours  in  happier  Spain,    l  told 
Ho  should  not  vex  her  Highness  ;  she 

would  say  [tliat  His  church 

These  are  the  means  God  works  with. 
May  flourish. 
rhi.      Ay,  sir,  but  in  statemanship 

[blow. 
To  strike  too  soon  is  oft  to  miss  the 
Thou  knowest  I  bade  my  chaplain, 

Castro,  preach 
Against  these  burnings. 

lien.  And  the  Emperor 

Approved  you,  and  when  last  he  wrote. 

declared  [were  bland 

His  comfort  in  your  Grace  that  you 
And  affable  to  men  of  all  estates. 
In  hope  to  charm  them  from  their  hate 

of  Spain.  [under  Spain. 

Phi.     In  hope  to  crush  all  heresy 

But,  Renard,  I  am  sicker  staying  here 

Than  any  sea  could  make  me  passing 

hence, 
Tbo*  I  be  ever  deadly  sick  at  sea. 
So  sick  am  I  with  biding  for  this  child. 

{women 
me  for 


To  go  twelve  months  in  bearing  of  a 

child  ?  [they  led 

The  nurses  yawn*d,  the  cradle  gaped. 
Processions,  chanted  litanies,  clash'd 

their  bells,  [priests 

Shot  off  their  lying  cannon,  and  her 
Have  preach'd,  the  fools,  of  this  fair 

prince  to  come,  [fool. 

Till,  by  St.  James,  I  find  myself  the 
Why  do  you  lift  your  eyebrow  at  me 

thus  ?  [moved  till  now. 

Ren,     I  never  saw  your  Highness 
Phi.    So,  weary  am  I  of  this  wet 

land  of  theirs, 
And  every  soul  of  man  that  breathes 

therein, 
J?eM.    My  liege,  we  must  not  drop 

the  mask  before 
The  masquerade  is  over— 

Phi.  -Have  I  dropt  it  ? 

I  have  butsho%vn  a  loathing  face  to 

you. 
Who  knew  it  from  the  first. 

Enter  Mary. 

Mary  (asiffc).     With  Renard.    Still 

Parleying  with    Kcnard.  all  the   day 

witliRenarfl,  me — 

And  scarce  a  greeting  all  the  day  for 

And  ^oes  to-morrow.  [Exit  Mary. 

Phx.     (to  Jiennrd  ickn  advances  to 

him).         Well,  rir,  is  there  more?- 

Ren.    {xcho  has  perceived  the  Queen). 

May  Sininu  Renard  speak    a    single 

word  ? 

Phi.  Ay. 

Reiu    And  be  forgiven  for  it  ? 

Phi.  Simon  Renard 

Knows  me  too  well  to  speak  a  single 

That  could  not  be  forgiven.  [word 

Ren,  Well,  my  liege. 

Your  Grace  hath  a  most  chaste  and 

loving  wife. 

Phi.     Why  not?     The    Queen    of 

Pliilip  should  be  chaste. 
Ren.    Ay,  but,  my  Lord,  you  know 
what  Virgil  sings. 
Woman  is  various  and  most  mutable. 
Phi.    She  play  the  harlot !  never. 
Ren,  No,  sire,  no. 

Not  dream*d  of  by  the  rabidest  gos- 
peller, [palace. 
There  was  a  paper  thrown  into  the 
**  The  King  hath  wearied  of  his  bar- 
ren bride.'*                            [rent  it. 
She  came  upon  it,  read  it.  and  then 
With  all  the  rage  of  one  who  hates  a 
truth                               [have  you— 
He  cannot  but  allow.    Sire,  I  would 
What  should  I  say,  I  cannot  pick  my 
words —                                 [Queen. 
Be  somewhat  less— majestic  to  your 
Phi.    Am  I  to  change  my  manners, 
Simon  Renard,                    [beasts  ? 
Because    these  islanders   are    brutal 
Or  would  you  have  me  turn  a  sonnet- 

teer, 
And  warble  those  brief-sighted  eyes 
of  hem  ? 


f 


QUEEN  MARY. 


391 


How.    Health  to  your  Grace,  Good- 
morrow,  my  Lord  Cardinal ; 
"We    make  our   humble  prayer   unto 
your  Grace  [eigu  parts, 

That  Cranmer  may  withdraw  to  for- 
Or  into  private  life  within  the  realm. 
In    several    bills    and    declarations, 

Madam, 
He  hath  recanted  all  his  heresies. 
Poffef,    Ay,  ay  ;  if  Bonner  have  not 
forged  the  bills.  [Aside 

Mary.    Did  not  More  die,  and  Fisher  ? 
he  must  bum. 
How,    He  hath  recanted.  Madam. 
Mary.  The  better  for  him. 

He  burns  in  Purgatory,  not  in  Hell. 
How,    Ay,  ay,  your  Grace  i  but  it  was 
never  seen 
That  any  one  recanting  thus  at  full, 
As  Cranmer  hath,  came  to  the  Hre  on 
earth. 
Mary  ■.    It  will  be  seen  no\7,  then. 
Thi.  O  Madam,  Madam  ! 

I  thus  implore  you,  low  upon  my  knees, 

[friend. 
To  reach  the  hand  of  mercy  to  my 
Ihaveerr'd  with  him  ;  with  him  I  have 

I'ecanted. 
What  human  reason  is  there  why  my 

friend 
Should  meet  with  lesser  mercy  than 
myself  ?  [a  riot 

Mary,    My  Lord  of  Ely,  this.    After 
We  hang  the  leatleis,  let  their  follow- 
ing go. 
Cranmer  is  head  and  father  of  these 
heresies,  [God 

New  learning  as  they  call  it ;  yea,  may 
Forget  me  at  most  need  when  I  forget 
Her  foul  divorce— my  sainted  mother- 
No  !—  [doubted  there. 
How.     Ay,    ay,   but    mighty    doctors 
The  Pope  himself  waver'd ;  and  more 
than  one  [wit, 
Row*d  in    that    galley— Gardiner    to 
Whom  truly  I  deny  not  to  have  been 
Your  faitlif ul  friend  and  trusty  coun- 
cillor,                                      [book. 
Hath  not  your  Highness  ever  read  his 
His  tractate  uoon  True  Obedience, 
Writ  by  himself  and  Bonner  ? 

Mary.  I  will  take 

Such  order  with  all  bad  heretical  books 

[house  and  live. 
That  none  shall  hold  them  in  his 
Henceforward.    No,  my  Lord. 

How.  Then  never  read  it. 

The  truth  is  here.    Your  father  was  a 

man  [courteous, 

Of    such    colossal    klnghood,    yet    so 

Except  when  wroth,  you  scarce  could 

meet  his  eye 
And  hold  your  own ;  and  were  he  wroth 

indeed, 

You  held  it  less,  or  not  at  all.    I  say. 

Your  father  had  a  will  that  beat  men 

down  ;  [men  down— 

Your  father  had  a  brain    that   beat 

Pole.    Not  me,  mv  Lord. 

How,       No,  for  you  were  not  horo; 


You  sit  upon  this   fallen  Cranmer*8 
throne;  [Lord  Legate. 

And  it  would  more  become  you,  my 
To  join  a  voice,  so  potent  with  her 
Highness.  [stand 

To  ours  in  plea  for  Cranmer  than  to 
On  naked  self-assertion. 

Mary.  All  your  voices 

Are  waves  on  flint.    The  heretic  must 

burn.  [esty's  owji  life  ; 

How,    Yet  once  he  saved  your  Maj- 

Stood  out  against  the    King  in.  your 

At  his  own  p^jiil.  [behalf, 

Mary.  I  know  not  if  he  did: 

And  if  he  did  I  care  not,  my  Lord 

Howard. 

My  life  is  not  so  happy,  no  such  boon, 

That  I  should  spare  to  take  a  heretic 

priest's,  [you  vc  x  me  ? 

Who   saved  iter  not  saved.    \Vhy  do 

Paget.    Yet  to  save  Cranmer  were 

to  save  the  Church, 

Your  Majesty's  1  mean  ;  he  is  effaced, 

Self-blotted  out;  so  woundeil  his  honor, 

[hole 

He  can  but  creep  down  into  some  dark 

Like  a  hurt  beast,  and  hide  himself 

and  die  ;  [Highness  knows 

But  if    you   bum    him,  —  well,  your 

The  saying.    **  Martyr's   blood— seed 

of  the  Church." 

Mary.    Of  the  true  Church  ;  but  his 

is  none,  nor  will  be. 

You  are  too  politic  for  me,  my  Lord 

Paget,  [life. 

And  if  he  have  to  live  so  loath'd  a 

It  were  more   merciful  to  bum  him 

now.  [knew  him 

T/u,    Oyet  relent.   O.  Madam,  if  you 

As  I  do,  ever  gentle,  and  so  gracious, 

With  all  his  learidng— 

Mari/.  Yet  a  heretic  still. 

His  learning  makes  his  burning  the 

more  just.        [came  across  him ; 

Thi.    So  worshipt  of  all  those  that 

The  stranger  at  Ids  hearth,  and  all  his 

house—  [bine,  belike. 

Mary,    His  children  and  his  concu- 

Tki,    To  do  him  any  wrong  was  to 

beget  [was  rich, 

A  kindness  from  him,  for  his  heart 

Of  such  fine  mould,  that  if  you  sow'd 

therein  [ity. 

The  seed  of  Hate,  it  blossom'd  Char- 

Pole.    **  After  his  kind  it  costs  him 

nothing."  there's  [point. 

An  old  world   English  adage   to  the 

These  are  but  natural  graces,  my  good 

Bishop,  [libwers, 

Wliich  in  the  Catholic  jrarden  are  as 

But  on  the  heretic  dunghill  only  weeds. 

[gracious. 

How.     Such  weeds  make  dunghills 

A/ari/ .  Enough,  my  Lords. 

It  is  God's  will,  the  Holy  Father's  will, 

And  Philip*s  will,    and  mine,  that  ho 

should  bum. 
He  is  pronounced  anathema. 


7 


■OM 


Qod  BTont  y&u  Unp1«r  mercj  at  tout 

Than  yon  have  aliown  to  Cranmer. 

lExeV-nt  LOTds. 
ilr.  Alter  tills, 

T  Grace  will  liirdlj  tare  lo  ayet- 

I    wmo    pelitlon    of    lh6   toreigii 
rraHmor's  life. 

CVnn.      Lait  n 


3  bade  niOiJavDgood  4!oani|^e;  mid 

An  itiiEel  rry.  "tlieie  ia  iDoni  jut  In 
Aiid  altar  t^  the  trumpet  oC  tha 

dead.  [TrumpeltteUliaut. 

y,  tbaro  are  Irimipet*  blowiuguow: 

wLst  is  It  •> 

Enter  Father  Cole. 

all.    Cmnmer,  1  VDDiBto  qasEtlon 

joasgiiiii;       ^  lolioFukh, 


Liflrni'd.  [tlierColo? 

IB  irunipet"  bloHinB,  Kit 
.umar.iClB  decldeahy  tile 


I  yon  pasalng  througli 
(thank  tlieCouuoll, 


"af 


Cole.    Do  you  lack  any  nionev? 
Cran.  Nay,  why  nliould  I  ? 

Is  gornl  eiiougli  turtno.' 

lland  It  me,  tbcii  I 

*FoT  a  littlo  Bpace.  farewell ; 

aea  yoQ  In  SL  Maiy'g  Cliurch. 

\Exit  Coie. 

II  ia  agatoBt  all  precedent  to 


To  glTO  the  poor- 

who  die. 
Well,  bum  me  or 

A  lio}y  Hupper, 


11  make  Lla  Uaker—Villa 


iWpDi  lai  tUB,  CtauiDer. 


MARY. 

Cmn.    Hare  I  not  writ  enonKh  W 

wtUty  ynu  ? 
V.G.    Itltibelaat. 
Cmn.    Give  II  ime,  then,  (ttrmiltt 
r.  O.  Now  Bvu 

CVnn.    1  have  glga'd  enongb,  anil  I 

willsisn  HO  more. 
y.  a.    ft  is  no  more  than  what 
hnve  Bien'd  alrcadv, 
The  publloYorm  thereof. 

Cmn,  It  mar  Tie 

I  sipi  II  nitU  my  preeeiice,  if  I  mi 

.."■_     _        ..        .  tdr      - 


art  them  to  a  pure  and 
litre  the  Queeu'n  tlvhl 
throne ;  conleea  [an..  .._ 

E  faith  before  all  ]Y>ur  heiiui; 


II  your  h 


. .  [buok. 

Cron.  No,  MlTii  Ousls, 

I  signno  more.    Will  Uify  liave  m 

y.  G.    HttTo  you  good  liO[wa  o(d 

Cran.    Good  faopeg,  not  thcliK  hi 

I  that  I  am  Hxl. 

Fiit  beyond  fall ;  however,  In  Bt 

hodiB,  [i 

Alter    the    lone    ljmin.dBilng 

And  tbDiuaiid<tiines  reGUxriiig 

Of  (lioaa  two  f  riare  e< 


er  In  my  prtsan,  I 

WlUioul  a  friend,  n  took,  mv  faltf™ 

would  leem  [b«aril 

Dend  or  half-ilrown'd.  or  »lBo  iWM 
AgaliiBt  the  hage  corrupUoni  o(  dl 

Monrl' 

To    BCI 


The  eof  c  and  ir 

Deah' 
O  higher, 


Elrller,  parer  ehnrch. 


No  sBoiacB,  hue  a  llfe-eiviiitf  (t$a  I 

IWrilea.l    So,  m ;  Uils  wiVl  1  auy— Ihne 
will  I  pi^         [i*u(»  u|i  llupafcr, 

Brm,    Good'day.  old  friend ;   what. 

Atid  yet  it  1b  n  dav  to  test  y^tic  healtb 
ET'nnt  the  beat:  Iseareo  baioEiinlin 
with  you  lyour  inal 

Since  wheii?— yoor  tlegtsdatleii.    At 
Kever  Btood  up  a  bolder   man  lliau 


\ 'OunAowiAi^taalf  of  u.   g«,  kRettb 


QUEEN  MARY. 


898 


We  had  to  dls-arclibishop  and  milord. 
And  make  you  simple  Oraiimer  once 

again. 
The  common  barber  clipt  your  hair, 

and  I  [holy  oil ; 

Scraped  from  your  finger-points  the 
And  worse  than  all|  vou  had  to  kneel 

Uitne:  [Master  Cranmer. 

Which  was  not  pleasant  for  you, 
Kow  you,  that  would  not  recognize  the 

Pope,  [Presence, 

And  you,  that  would  not  own  the  Ileal 
Have  found  a  real  presence  in  the 

stake,  [ancient  faith ; 

Which  friglits  you  back  into  the 
And  BO  you  nave  recanted  to  the  Pope. 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  Master 

Craiuner ! 
Cran.    You  have  been  more  fierce 

agaimt  the  Pope  than  I ; 
But  why  fling   back   the   stone    he 

strikes  me  with  ?  [Aside* 

0  Bonner,  if  I  ever  did  you  kindness — 
Power  hath  been  given   you   to  try 

faith  by  fire— 
Z^y  you,  remembering  how  yourself 

have  changed.  [gone. 

Be  somewhat  pitiful,  after  I  have 
To  the  poor  flock— to  women  and  to 

children—  [me. 

That  when  I  was  archbishop  held  with 

Bon.    Ay— gentle  as  they  call  you— 

live  or  die ! 
Pitiful  to  this  pitiful  heresy  ? 

1  must  obey  the  Queen  and  Council, 

man.  [Xourself. 

Win  thro*  this  day  witli  lienor  to 
And  1*11  say  something  for  you— so— 

good-by.  [Exit. 

Cran.    This  hard  coarse  man  of  old 

hath  croucli'd  to  me  [him. 

Till  I  myself  was  half  ashamed  for 

Enter  Thirlby. 

Weep  not,  good  Thirlbv. 

Thi.  Oh,  my  Loril,  my  Lord! 

jfy  heart  is  no  such  block  as  Bonner's 
Wno  would  not  weep  ?  [is  ; 

Cran.       Why  do  you  so  my  lord  me, 
Who  am  disgraced  ?  f  ven 

Thi.    On  earth ;  but  saved  in  hea- 
Bjryour  recanting. 

Cran.    Will  they  burn  me,  Thirlby  ? 

Thi.    Alas,  they  will;  these  burn- 
ings will  not  help 
The  purpose  of  the  faith ;  but  my  poor 

voice 
Against  them  is  a  whisper  to  the  roar 
Oi  a  spring  tide.  [me  ? 

Cran.    And   they  will  surely  burn 

Thi.    Ay ;   and  besides,  will   have 
you  in  the  church 
Bepeat  your  recantation  in  the  ears 
Of  all  men,  to   the  saving  of  their 
souls,  [help  you 

Before  your  execution.  M^  God 
Thro'  that  hard  hour.  [Thirlby. 

Cran.    And    may  God    bless    you. 

Well,  they  shall  hear  my  recantation 

there.  (jExU  Thirlby. 


Disgraced,  dishonor*d  !~not  by  them, 

indeed, 
By  mine  own  self— by  mine  own  hand  I 

0  thin-skinn'd  hand  and  jutting  veins, 

'twas  you  [of  Kent ; 

That  signed  the  burning  of  poor  Joan 
But  then  she  was  a  witch.    You  have 

written  much,  [for  Faith. 

But  you  were  never  raised  to  plead 
Whose  dogmas  I  have  reach'd  :  he  was 

deliver'd  [was  Lambert ; 

To  the  secular  arm  to  burn  ;  and  there 
Who  can  f orsee  himself  ?  truly  these 

burnings,  [burners. 

As  Thirlby  says,  are  profitless  to  the 
And  help  the  other  side.    You  shall 

bum  too. 
Bum  first  when  I  am  burnt. 
Fire— inch  by  inch  to  die  in  agony! 

Latimer  [bum'd 

Had  a  brief  end— not  Ridley.  Hooper 
Three-quarters  of  an  hour.    Will  my 

fagots  [rain. 

Be  wet  as  his  were?   It  is  a  day  of 

1  will  not  muse  upon  it.  [makes 
My  fancy  takes  the  burner's  part,  and 
The  fire  seem  even  crueller  tliaii  it  is. 
No,  I  not  doubt  that  God  will  give  me 
Albeit  I  have  denied  him.    [strength, 

Enter  Soto  and  Villa  Garcia. 
V.  G.  We  are  ready 

To  take  you  to  St.  Mary's^  Master 
Cranmer. 
Cran.    And  I :  lead  on ;  ye  loose  me 
from  my  bonds.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III.— 5^.  Mary^s  Church. 
Cole  in  the  Pulpit,  Lord  Williams  of 
Thaine  presidirw.  Lord  William 
Howard,  Lord  Paget,  and  others, 
Craiuner  enters  between  Soto  and 
Villa  Garcia,  and  the  tcJiole  Choir 
strike  up  **  Nunc  Dimittis."  Cran- 
mer is  set  upon  a  Scaffold  be/ore 
tlie  people. 

Cole.    Behold  him— 

[A  pause :  people  in  the  foreground. 
People.    Oh,  unhappy  sight ! 

1  Prot.    See  how  the  tears  run  down 
his  fatherly  face. 

2  I*rot.    James,  didst  thou  ever  see 
a  carrion  crow  [dies  ? 

Stand  watching  a  sick  beast  before  he 
1  Prot.    Him  perch'd  up  there  ?    I 
wish  some  thunderbolt 
Would  make  this  Cole  a  cinder,  pulpit 
and  all. 
Cole,    Behold    him,    brethren :   he 
hath  cause  to  weep  !—  [will, 

So  have  we  all :  weep  with  him  if  ye 
Yet— 

It  is  expedient  for  one  man  to  die. 
Yea,  for  the  people,  lest  the  people 
die.  [retum'd 

Yet  wherefore  should  he  die  that  hath 
To  the  one  Catholic  Universal  Church, 
Kepentant  of  his  errors. 
J*rot,  murmurs.       Ay,  tell  us  that. 
Cole.    Those  of  the  wrong  side  ^i^ 
despise  the  man, 


^■■11 


Iieunilno  liim  one  tha,t  Ihio'  the  fenr 

<>t  Ucstli 

(iate  nil  his  caute.  sicepl  ho  BenI  hia 

faith  L'lo'ii- 

In  sigbC  of  all  villi  asmlnE  nuiriyr- 

Cran.    Aj.  [may  swsui 

Cale,    Ye  hear  bim,  ojiU  dUmU.  tlicra 

Acroriilue  to  the  'uiidiis  panluu   ilua 

Toliiminitw  -  -    -^  -- 


QUEEN  MAIiY. 
Tlia  trlumc 
The  palleni 


[Oilstl 


Wlierttfare  ourOneen  and  C 
'AJJudge  hlin  f  ••-  ■'-■*'■ 

Ailuik#raiidc( 


As  U  he  had  bseu  tlia  Uoly  Falher, 

And  judged  It.  Did  I  callliini  heretic  ? 
A    IJUKB   liorealarohl   nevar    wu  Jt 

kiiiixni 
That  ally  man  f4i  writing,  preaclilng  bo, 
So  i-olaoiUng  the  Chundi,  so  long  con- 

Hnth  foiiii^bla  pardon;  therefore  hs 
l''or  wariiiiig  and  example. 

Ofiier  reaaoiiB 
There  he  for  this  idbu'b  etidliig,  uhlch 
our  Queen  (not 

And  Council  at  this  present  deem  it 
Klj-edlent  lo  bs  known. 

"  ':  ,TalcB  theretoro,  all,  eiuniple 


ir  Holy  Queen  IK 


■  pnrdon  hlin, 


Thai  all  of  Tou,  the  highest  as  the 
May  leatn  Ihiira  la  no  power  agalnat 

Uie  Lord.  [dKgree. 

There  itaiids  a  man,  once  of  aoWh 
CMet   prolBM  of   onr  Church,  nrch. 

hisljop.  hilt 
In    Council,    aecond    person  in   Uio 

Trlend  fo'r  bo  long  tlmo  of  n  nilglitj 

'an  and  de- 
—  fallen  to 

The  leprous  flutteiinga  ot  the  bywaT, 
And  o^al  at  the  city  would  not  chanee 

ble,  '  '         (Mm, 

There  Is  no  hope  of  better  left  tor 

Yet,  Grammar,  be  thou  glad. 
This  ii  the  work  of  Uod.    Ho  Is  ulorl- 


r  ;e  nee  downfall 


of  St.   Andrew  on  lib 

lAn. 
of  St.  Lamence  la  ibe 
call  ou  Uod  aitd  all  tin 


Ood  wnl  beat  down  the  fnry 

Or  give  Ihee  aalutly  BtieugUi  lo  under- 

Aniffor  thy  aonl  sliaU  msaseB  henl'' 
By  etery  ptleai  lu  Oxford.    Praj  fcr 

Otm.  Ay,  one  and  all.  ifiMri - 
Fray  with  one  breath,  one  Ir 
Bonl,  tor  me. 
CoU.    AndnowJertaiiT    I 

heart,        [Sooali  Mn,-l,i  i'  i     ■  ■  ■  :. 

YonrselveB  ehull    hear    liltn     riiri^. 

Fullll  yuur  pruudae  muds  urn,  niHi  j/n- 

claim  .  liuarbeari 

Tour  true  uuOouDloa  fnllh,  tfial  HI 

d  that   I   -hIU.    O   OoiI, 

(worw! 


9  Ctil,  haft 


Fatlier  uf  Heavoii  [ 


vlndlcanlintlno 
ShallldeByuirlh 


uid  I  flea  for  wj 

[heMim. 

>  lite  mr  i^n  u 

1?— uoJrorbi.i;  0 


Thfltefore,   I  come;    liumbiD  loywlJ 

Saying,  O  Lord  Qod,  nUliongli  inytiM 

bo  great,  (ttodf'— *"■ 


QUEEN  MARY. 


395 


And,  like  the  etone-oat  epitaph,  re- 
main ,  Ito  men. 
After  the  vanish'd  voice,  and  speak 
God  grant  me  grace  to  glorify   my 

God! 
And  first  I  say  it  is  a  grievous  case. 
Many    so    dote     upon    this    bubhle 

world-  [fly, 

Whose  colors  in  a  moment  break  and 
They  care  for  nothing  else.     What 

saith  St.  John :  [God.** 

**  Love  of  this  world  is  hatred  against 
Again,  I  pray  you  all  that,  next  to 

God, 
You  do  unmurmuringly  and  willingly 
Obey  your  King  and  Queen,  and  not 

for  dread  [Him 

Of  these  alone,  but  from  the  fear  of 
Whose  ministers  they  be  to  govern 

you.  [gether 

Thiraly,  I  pray  you  all  to  love  to- 
Xike  brethren ;  yet  what  hatred  Chris- 
tian men  [brethren. 
Bear  to  each  other,  seeming  not  as 
But  mortal  foes !    But  do  you  good  to 

all  [man  more 

As  much  as  in  you  lieth.     Hurt  no 
Than   you   would  harm  your  loving 

natural  brother  [any  do. 

Of  the  same  roof,  same  breast.     If 
Albeit  he  think  himself  at  home  with 

God,  [awav. 

Of  this  be  sure,  he  is  whole  worlds 

Protestant  viunnurs..    What  sort  of 

brothers  then  be  those  that  lust 
To  bum  each  other  ? 

Will.  Peace  among  you,  there. 

Cran.    Fourthly,  to  those  that  own 

exceeding  wealtli,  [once 

Remember  wat  sore  saying    spoken 
By  Him  that  was  the  truth,    **  how 

hard  it  is  [Heaven ;  ** 

For    tbe    rich    man    to    enter    into 
Let  all  rich  men  remember  that  hard 

word.  [now 

I  have  not  time  for  more :  if  ever, 
Let  them  flow  forth  in  charity,  seeing 

now  [dear. 

The  poor  so  many,  and  all  food  so 
Long  have  I  loin  in  prison,  yet  have 

heard  [the  poor 

Of  all  their  wretchedness.     Give  to 
Yet  give  to  Qod,    He  is  with  ns  in  the 

poor.  [come 

And  now,  and  forasmuch  as  I  have 

To  the  last  end  of  life,  and  thereupon 

Hangs  all  my  past,  and  all  my  life  to 

be,  [with  joy. 

Either  to  live  with  Christ  in  Heaven 
Or  to  be  still  in  pain  with  devils  in 

hell ; 
Andy  seeing  in  a  moment,  I  shall  find 

[Pointing  upwards  > 
Heaven  or  else  hell  ready  to  swallow 

me,  [Pointing  doxonwards, 

I  shall  declare  to  you  my  very  faith 
Without  all  color. 

^  Cole,   Hear  him  my  good  brethren. 
Cran.    I  do  believe  In  God,  Father 

oloU; 


In  every  article  of  the  Catholic  faith, 
And  every  syllable  taught  us  by  our 

Lord, 
His  prophets  and  apostles,  in  the  Tes- 
Both  Old  and  New.  [tamenis 

Cole.    Be  plainer.  Master  Cranmer, 
Cran.    And  now  I  come  to  the  great 

cause  that  weighs  [Uiing 

Upon  my  conscience  more  than  any 
Or  said  or  done  in  all  my  life  by  me  ; 
For  there  be    writings    I    have    set 

abroad  [heart. 

Against  the  truth  I  knew  within  my 
Written  for  fear  of  death,  to  save  my 

life,  [hand 

If  that  might  be;  the  papers  by  my 
Sign'd  since  my  degradation— by  this 

hand     [Holding  out  his  right  hand 
Written  and  sign*d— I  here  renounce 

them  all ;  [written 

And,  since  my  hand  ofFendetl,  having 
Against  my  heart,  my  hand  shall  first 

,  be  burnt. 
So  I  may  come  to  the  fire. 

[Dead  silence' 

Protestant  murmurs. 

1  Prot.    I  knew  it  would  be  so. 

2  Prot.       Our  prayers  are  heard ! 

3  Prot.    God  bless  liim ! 

Catholic  murmurs.    Out  upon  him ! 
out  upon  him  I 
Liar !  dissembler  I  traitor !  to  the  fire ! 
IVill.  (raising  his  voice).    You  know 
that  you  recanted  all  you  said 
Touching  the  sacrament  in  that  same 
book  [Chester ; 

You  wrote  against  my  Lord  of  Win- 
Dissemble  not ;  play  the  plain  Chris- 
tian man. 
Cran.    Alas,  my  Lord, 
I  haveheen  a  man  loved  plainness  all 

my  life ; 
I  did  dissemble,  but  the  hour  has  come 

[fore,  I  say. 
For  utter  truth  and  plainness ;  where- 
I  hold  by  all  I  wrote  within  that  book. 
Moreover,  [christ. 

As  for  the  Pope  I  count  him  Anti- 
With  ail  his  devil's  doctrines ;  and  re- 
fuse, [said, 
Bbject  him,  and  abhor  him.    I  have 

iCries  on  all  sides,    **Pull    him 
down  I  Away  with  him.*' 

Cole.  Ay,  stop  the  heretic's  mouth. 
Hale  mm  away. 

Will.  Harm  him  not,  harm  him  not, 
have  him  to  the  fire. 

[Cranmer  ^s  oitt  between  two 
Friar  St  smiling ;  hands  are  reached 
to  him  from  the  croxod.  Lord  Wil- 
liam Howard  and  Lord  Paget  are 
left  aione  in  the  church. 

Paget.      The  nave  and  aisles  all 
empty  as  a  fool'sjest ! 
No,    here's    Lord  William  Howard. 

What,  my  Lord, 
You  have  not  gone  to  see  the  bomlng ! 

Mow.  «Mk\ 


V 


396  QUEEy 

To  stand  M  eoae,  nnd  Bture  as  at  s 

ItawUiBdeBthiDfLBtlmerii    ' 

MoreoTeT,  tho'  a  Catholic, 
For  tlio  pure  lionor  o(  ou 

Hoar  nhac  I  m]Elit--anDlli(ti  ntcau- 
Ot  (Jraiiiner  at  Uu^  slnke. 

JVgrt.  YoB'U  not  hear  that. 

Ho  pBM'il  DutBiniliiig,  undhe  WBifil 

uprleht  1  [eeiioral 

Bb  aye  won  Ulce  a  Boklicr'B  vfwm  the 


Hatli    mtrit  tor   s 


I  badcwardnsBB 


OharoH  oua  nsHiiint  n  IlioRtuti: 
Hurlahli!  BoiiyilTo  ucaluBttlia  pikea 
and  illes.  Tall  tlione  papciB 

Of  TocttiiMtion  Jiald  ^ilpa'in.  ivlJ 
Sdowb  ?  Itliiuk  yuu  Uieit 

Paget.      Pnper*      of      recaiiltttioii. 

That  Cranmioc  raad  all  iiairen  that 
LeaignM?  (.sign'tl? 

Or  sieu'if  all  IboBO  thpy  tell  ub  Uiat  lio 

Kay.T  trow  iiol :  oUiS  youeLa" 

Tlial  howsoever  liaro-liko  the  i 
-iMiLiUiBllre.lf  "         - 
'111  in  SDiue  lyli 


Of  life  wi 
Look'd  B< 


ooked  oil  Mm  ii 
d  ntrirt  him  Ui  iii. 


bb  fiiexe. 

Ho  Blood  upright,  a 

And  eatlier'd  iiltti  his  hands  the  i .   . 

jug  flame,  [thereiu, 

And  irosh'd  liis  bands  and  all  his  face 
Uulil  the  powder  anddeuly  ble^r  him 

dead.  [dJad 

Mdley  -was  longer  bumlug;  but  hs 
Ab  maufoll;   and  Inldl;,  and   'fnra 

I  kuow  ihem  heretles,  hut  right  Eng- 
I£  eyer,  n«  heaven  gnuit,  wo  clash  niih 


Wm  tell_youthal 
lA  mvrmur  qf  Ihe  eroied  in  the  dis- 

Hnrk,  how  Uioee  Roman   wolfdoga 

howl  and  bay  him. 
Boll!.    IVtJEhC  ic  iiut  be  the  other  i 

rejoidug 
In  Ilia  brave  end? 
Pugtt.       They  are  too  cnuli'd,  ti 

!Du>y  cau  but  weep  \n  E\\«nee. 


QUEEN  MARY. 


397 


I 


Expectant  of  the  rack  from  day  to  day. 
To  whom  the  lire  were  welcome,  lying 
chain'dy  [ing  sewers, 

In   breathless  dungeons  over  steam- 
Fed  with  rank  bread  that  crawPd  upon 

the  tongue, 
And  putrid  water,  every  drop  a  worm. 
Until  they  died  of  rotted  limbs ;  and 
then  [come 

Cast  on  the  dunghill  naked,  and  be- 
Hideously  olive  again  from  head  to 

heel. 
Made   even  the  carrion-nosing  mon- 
With  hate  and  horror.  [grel  vomit 

Paget.  Nay,  you  sicken  me 

To  hear  you. 

Hoio.  Fancy-sick ;  these  things 

are  done,  [Queen 

Done  right  against  the  promise  of  this 
Twice  given. 

Paget.  No  faith  with  heretics, 

my  Lord !  [pellers, 

Hist!  there  be  two  old  gossips— gos- 

I  take   it;   stand   behind  the   pillar 

here ;  [burning. 

I  warrant  you  they  talk   about   the 

JSnter  Two  Old  Women.    Joan,  and 

after  her  Tib. 

Joan.    "WTiy,  it  be  Tib. 

Tib.  I  cum  behind  tha,  gall,  and 
couldn't  make  tha  hear.  £h,  the 
wind  and  the  wet !  What  a  day,  what 
a  day  !  nigh  upo'  judgment  daay  loike. 
Pwoaps  be  pretty  things,  Joan,  but 
they  wunt  set  i'  the  Lords'  cheer  o' 
that  daay. 

Joan.  I  must  set  down  myself. 
Tib ;  it  be  a  var  waay  vor  my  owld 
legs  up  vro'  Islip.  Eh,  my  rheumar 
ti^  be  that  bad  howiver  be  I  to  win 
to  the  burnin*. 

Tift.  I  should  saay  *twur  ower  by 
now.  I'd  ha'  been  here  avore,  but 
Dumble  wur  blow'd  wi'  the  wind,  and 
Dumble's  the  best  milcher  in  Islip. 

Joan.    Our  Daisy's  as  good  'z  her. 

Tib.    Noa,  Joan. 

Joan.    Our  Daisy's  butter's  as  good 

Tib.    Noa,  Joan.  ['z  hern. 

Joan,    Oar  Daisy's  cheeses  bebet- 

Tib..   Noa,  Joan.  [ter. 

Joan.  E^,  then  ha*  thy  waay  wi'  me, 
Tib ;  ez  tliou  hast  wi'  thy  owld  man. 

Tib.  Ay,  Joan,  and  my  owld  man 
wur  up  and  awaay  betimes  wi'  dree 
hard  esgs  for  a  good  pleace  at  the 
burnin";  and  barrin'  the  wet,  Hodge 
'ud  ha'  been  a-harrowin'  o'  white 
peasen  i'  the  outdeld— and  barrin'  the 
wind,  Dumble  wur  blow'd  wi'  the 
wind,  so  'z  we  was  forced  to  stick  her, 
but  we  fetched  her  round  at  last. 
Thank  the  Lord  therevore.  Dumble's 
the  best  milcher  in  Islip. 

Joan.  Thou's  thy  way  wi*  man  and 
beast,  Tib.  I  wonder  at  tha*,  it  beats 
ine !  £h,  but  I  do  know  ez  Pwoaps 
and  vires  be  bad  things ;  tell  'ee  now. 
I  heerd  summat  as  summun  towld 
sammun  o'  owld  Bishop  Gardiner's 


end  ;  there  wur  an  owld  lord  arcum  to 
dine  wi'  un,  and  a  wur  so  owld  a 
couldn't  bide  vor  his  dinner,  but  a  had 
to  bide  howsomiver,  vor,  *'I  wunt 
dine,"  says  my  Lord  Bishop,  says  he, 
« not  till  I  hears  ez  Latimer  and 
Ridley  be  a-vire  ;  "  and  fo  they  bided 
on  and  on  till  vour  o'clock,  till  his 
man  cum  in  post  vro'  here,  and  tells 
un  ez  the  vire  has  tuk  holt.  *•  Now," 
says  the  bishop,  says  he,  "  we'll  gwo 
to  dinner ;  "  and  the  owld  lord  feu  to 
's  meat  wi'  a  will,  God  bless  un  :  but 
Gardiner  wur  struck  down  like  by  the 
hand-o'  God  avore  a  could  taste  a 
mossel,  and  a  set  him  all  a-vire,  so  'z 
the  tongue  on  un  cum  a  lolluping  out 
o  'is  mouth,  as  black  as  a  rat.  Thank 
the  Lord,  therevore. 

Paget.    The  fools  ! 

Tib.  Ay,  Joan  ;  and  Queen  Mary 
gwoes  on  a-buniin'  and  a  burnin',  to 
git  her  baaby  born  ;  but  all  her  burn- 
ins'  'ill  never  burn  out  the  hypocrisy 
that  makes  the  water  in  her.  There's 
nought  but  the  vire  of  God's  hell  ez 
can  burn  out  that. 

Joan.    Tliank  the  Lord,  therevore. 

Paget.    The  fools  I 

Tib.  A-buniin',  and  ar burnin', and  a- 
makin'  o'  volk  madder  and  madder ; 
but  tek  thou  my  word  vor't,  Joan,— 
and  I  bean't  wrong  not  twice  i'  ten 
year — the  burnin'  o'  the  owld  arch- 
bishop 'ill  burn  the  Pwoap  out  o'  tliis 
*ere  land  vor  iver  and-  iver. 

Hoto.    Out  of  the  church,  you  brace 
of  cursed  crones, 
Or  I  will  have  you  duck'd. 

[  Women  hurry  out. 

Said  I  not  right? 
For  how  should  reverend  prelate  or 
throned  prince  [nity? 

Brook  for  an  hour  such  brute  malig* 
Ah,  what  an  acrid  wine  has  Luther 
brew'd ! 
Paget.    Pooh,  pooh,  my  Lord  !  poor 
garrulous  countrywives. 
Buy  you  their  cheeses,  and  they'll  side 
with  you  ;  [the  lees. 

You   cannot  judge  the   liquor  from 
How.    I  think  that  in  some  sort  we 
may.    But  see. 

Enter  Peters. 

Peters,    my    gentleman,    an    honest 

Catholic,  [Cranmer's  lire. 

Who    follow'd    with    the    crowd    to 
One   that    would    neither    misreport 

nor  lie,  [Pope 

Not  to  gain  paradise  :  no,  nor  if  the 
Chargecfhim  to  do  it— he  is  white  as 

death. 
Peters,  how  pale  you  look  !  you  bring 

the  smoke 
Of  Cranmer's  burning  with  you. 

Pet.  Twice  or  thrice 

The    smoke    of    Cranmer's    buruiiuj^ 

wxapt.  me  xoMwil. 


',  bat  KnElbL. 

i  diB  Uravety?   T«I1 


\e  Cttth"- 


J-cl.  Mt  Lord,  lie  died  most  bra 

J^get.    Ay,  MMlor  PeUri,  1«1 
2'el.    Toll  BBur  liim  Itair  lie  p 


)  lUdle] 


liumt  vltli  Latimer,  [wlini 

Ho,  with   s  clieertui    ainlle.  ns   one 

~  I  oil  miulo  up,  hk  liaito  put  olT  lUo 

rags  [all  111  wlilte, 

Tlwj  CaJ  mocX ad  lite  misery  wttL.aiirt 
*"'  long  wlille  beanl,  whioh  lio  bod 

Sinoo  Heiiry'B  death,  down-aweepiiig 
Whorowltli  they  buiiiid  htm  (o  Lhe 
Btako,  he  stood,  [Church, 


ins,UB  Uiort  t "  lUld  a 


And  orylui!,  1"  lila  ^eflP  Toiee,  more 
'■llils  hath  olleuiled— uiix  iiuworthy 

J.  before 

Is   iHHly ;  1 

[ofpnlii 

rr'd  or  writbiid,  but.  liko 
[Bame, 

Uiimovlna   111  the    greatiiesB  of    the 

Gave  up  tlie  gliost :    aud  ao  past  niar- 

tyr-llko—  [but  whither? 

Martyr  I  may  not  call  hliii — past — 

Pagtl.    To  pursstory,  man,  to  pur- 

Pel.    Nay,  hut,  my  Lord,  he  danled 


purgatory. 
2'aBrr.    Why  than  to 
God  ha'  mercy  im  Id 


I^get,  despite  hie   fsnrfu] 


.     But  your  moau  Is  uBcloss 
ut,  iny  Lota,  \t  \b  ^  -aortA  «A 


StmsB  I.—Lonilon.  Hsli  in  tlu 
Queen,  Sir  Klcholaa  Ilea 
Utalk.    Madam,  ri-MU'dl 

UahdB  uhut  ill-garrlMin'd  In  Uidn 
Are  nearce  two  bundred  men,  ■    '  ' 

Freneh  fleet  (loc 

BnlH  in  the  narrow  teas.    Ii  m_ 
U  nor  should  taU  between  joantU 

Oryon  will  loae'yonr  CBlnls. 

ilary.  II  shall  be  look'iltD: 

I  wiih  yon  a  sood-moniiiiK,  i;t»d  Sit 

Here  la  the  iilng.  [Exit  BhI  ' 

Enler  Philip. 

PU.         Sir  KleholBi  telti  yoo  In 

And  you  must  look  tc  "-■-■-  — ■- 

A^'g.    Go  I  miwt  yi 
Why,  nature'*  lli'eiUHx 

swallow, 
That  might  lire  Hlwa; 

Etays  longer  here  In 

Knows  Ahere  lie  nesteil — ever  QO 
Phi.  And,  Madam,  BualiUll. 
Marv,  O,  wilt  yoii?  wIltMtJ 


11  taint  with    I 


Phi. 


ITS.     \( 


'oiceo—i  hear  ulilUplfd 
I  Bay  not.  I  believe.    Wluit  reinaw 

Dearer  tlian  mine  that  alioulil  bo  M 

Alas,  my  Lord;  w"  " 

phi.    The  Trices  of  Cutll*  uSfl 
Graiinda,  Napled,  Bldly  and  M — 


the  Nethoi 
The  volcaa  of  Peru  slid  Moileo. 
TuulB,  and  Oron,  and  the  PltllHpluai, 
And  all  the  tair  splce-lalauda  at  Ik< 

Slaru    (ofhnlHnirftr).    Yoii    Are  On 

nileliUeBt  monarcti  upon  nrdi, 

I  bnt  cTlltUe  Queen  ;  anttBo,  ii.iir~<d, 

ITelni  the  huge  vessel  of  your  kui>',  i'i> 
Here,  by  thealdeof  lieiwlioli.yr^  y-i 

Phi.    Nn,  Madam,  no !  n  r.i.ii.li"  !■! 
Is  all  but  HDioke— a  sior  Ik»i,I,:  [1<- 

la  all  but  lost;  your  pito[ilc  nuj  uA 

Yuur  people  axe  as  clieerlcti-  *•  i;<a 

clime;  ■■• — ■'  - 

Here   awlngB   a    Spanlanl- 
EnKlldiiBaii ; 
'—  —  unlike  u  tltalt 


QUEEN  MARY. 


899 


Tet  will  I  be  your  swallow  and  re- 
turn— 

But  now  I  cannot  bide. 
Mary,  Not  to  help  me  ? 

They  bate  me  also  for  mv  love  to  you, 

My  Jphilip ;  and  these  Judgments  on 
the  land—  [plague — 

Harrestless  autumns,  horrible  ague. 
Phi'    The  blood  and  sweat  of  here- 
tics at  the  stake 

Is  God's  best  dew  upon  the  barren 
field. 

Bum  more ! 
JMary,  I  will,  I  will :  and  you 

will  stay.  [came  to  sue 

Phi,   Have  I  not  said  ?    Madam,  I 

Your  Council  and  yourself  to  declare 

war.  [in  your  ranks 

Mary,    Sir,  there  are  many  English 

To  help  your  battle. 
Phi,  So  far  good.    I  say. 

I  came  to  sue  your  Counal  and  your- 
self [France. 

To  declare  war  against  the  King  of 
Mary,  Not  to  see  me  ? 

Phi,  Ay,  Madam,  to  see  you. 

tJnalterably  and  pesteringly  fond ! 

[Aside, 

But,  soon  or  late  you  must  have  war 
with  France  ;  [his  hearth. 

King  Henry  warms  your  traitors  at 

Carew  is  there,  and  Thomas  Stafford 

Courtenay,  belike—  [there. 

Mary,  A  fool  and  featherhead ! 

Phi,    Ay.  but  they  use  his  name. 

In  brief,  this  Henry       [the  intent 

Stirs   up  your   land    against  you  to 

That  you  may  lose  your  Euslish  her- 
itage, [marrying 

And   then   your   Scottish    namesake 

The  Dauphin,  he  would  weld  Fra:ice, 
England,  Scotland,  [me> 

Into  one  sword  to  hack  at  Spain  and 
Mary*    And  yet  the  Pope  is  now  col- 
leagued  with  France ; 

You  make  your  wars  upon  him  down 
in  Italy : — 

Philip,  can  that  be  well  ? 
/»A».  Content  you.  Madam ; 

You  must  abide  my  judguieut,  and  ray 
father's,  [war. 

Who  deems  it  a  most  just  and  holy 

The  Pope  would  cast  the  Spaniard  out 
of  l^aples :  [Saracens. 

He  calls  us  worse  than  Jews,  Moors, 

The  Pope  has  pushed  his  horns  beyond 
Ills  mitre — 

Beyond  his  province.    Now, 

Duke  Alva  will  but  touch  him  on  the 
honis,  [head— 

And  he  withdraws ;  and  of  his  holy 

For  Alva  is  true  son   of  the  true 
church —  [help  me  here  ? 

Ifo  hair   is   harm*d.    Will   you   not 

Mary,    Alas !  the  Council  will  not 

hear  of  war.  [of  England. 

They  say  your  wars  are  not  the  wars 

Thev  will  not  lay  more  taxes  on  a 
land  [you  know 

So  hunger-nipt  and  wretched;  and 


The  crown  is  poor.    Wo  have  given 

the  church-lands  back : 
The  nobles  would  not ;  nay,  they  clapt 
their  hands  [therefore  God 

Upon  their  swords  when  ask'd;  and 
Is  hard  upon  the  people.    What's  to 
be  done  ?  [again. 

Sir,  I  will  move  them  in  your  cause 
And  we  will  raise  us  loans  and  subsi- 
dies [Thomas  Gresham 
Among     the     merchants ;     and    Sir 
Will  aid  us.    There  is  Antwerp  and 
the  Jews. 
Phi,    Madam,  my  thanks.         [ing? 
Mary,    And  you  will  stay  your  go- 
Phi,    And  further  to  discourage  and 
lay  lame  [her  not, 
Tlie  plots  of  France,  altho*  you  love 
You   must   proclaim   Elizabeth  your 
heir.                                    [of  Scots. 
She  stands  beyond  yon  and  the  Queen 
Martf.    The  Queen  of  Scots  at  least 

is  Catliolic. 
Phi.    Ay,  Madam,  Catholic  ;  but  I 
will  not  have  [land  too. 

The  King  of  France  the  King  of  En^ 
Mary.    But  she's   a  heretic,    an^ 
v( hen  lam  gone, 
Brin^  the  new  learning  back. 

Phi,  It  must  be  done. 

You   must   proclaim   Elizabeth  your 
heir 
Mart/.    Tlien  it  is  done ;   but  you 
will  stay  your  soing  [pose  ? 

Somewhat  beyona  your  settled  pur- 
Phi,  No ! 

Mary.    What,  not  one  day? 
Phi,  You  beat  upon  the  rock. 

Mary,    And  I  am  broken  there. 
Phi,  Is  this  a  place 

To  wail  in.  Madam  ?  what !  a  public 

hall. 
Go  in,  1  pray  you. 

Mary,  Do  not  seem  so  changed* 

Say  go  ;  but  only  sav  it  lovingly. 
Phi.    You  do  mistake.    I  am  not 
one  to  change. 
I  never  loved  you  more. 

Mary,  Sire,  I  obey  you, 

Come  quickly. 
Phi,       Ay.  \  Exit  M&ry. 

Enter  Count  de  Feria. 

Per.  {aside.)    The  Queen   in  tears. 

Phi,  Feria ! 

Hast  thou  not  mark'd— come  closer  to 

mine  ear—  [hath  erown 

How  doubly  aged  this  Queen  of  ours 

Since  she  lost  hope   of  bearing  us  a 

child  ? 

Per,  Sire,  if  your  Grace  hath  mark'd 

it,  so  have  1. 
Phi,    Hast  thou  not  likewise  mark'd 
Elizabeth,  [deed  ? 

How  fair  and  royal— like  a  Queen,  in- 
Per.    Allow  mo  the  same  answer  as 
before —  [so  have  I. 

That  if  your  grace  hath  mark'd  her. 
Phi.    Good,    now ;    methiuks    my 
Queen  is  like  enough 
To  leave  b-y  a\\l\.\):s . 


t 


I'M.    I  meui  not  like  t 


supple, 


lliilibort 
ShUI  ba  Tlie  man  ;  Iil«l  t  Bb 
Upon  itie  Quuu,  becauas  1 

Ton  undeniaiid,  Feriik. 
J'-tr.  Sire.  I  do. 

Phi.    And  ir  yon  ba  not  i 

J--er.  '    a 

Phi.  Von  mUBt  be  Bwoat  atu 
like  a  Frencbman. 
Bhe  19  none  or  Uioso  nlin  lodthe  the 
lioDOf  cutab.  [Exit  Eoilu. 

ftiiler  TUnanL 
ilea.    My  llego,  I  brtng  you  goodly 

tlOinBis. 

Phi.  Well. 

ifcH.  TherotPiH  be  war  Willi  Frsime, 

atloit,  my  llogo;  [aas. 

Sir  Tbomait   SinSord,  »  bnll-beadeil 

Sailing  Irom  Franco,  wllH  tbirtj  Eiig- 

-      ■       ■  -   (lie,  north 


HatU   lalteii   ScBrboto"  Cttefle, 
ITorlalmB  Mnrar  ■■ —    " 


[low 


the  Council  [for  war. 

Shnvd  tnlk'd  wH'i  xonie  Already)  on 
Mais  thanftli  consfilrncy  Jiatch'diii 
Franoo ;  [your  Gmee, 

TliBv  shoa'  tli»ir  teeth  upon  it;  anil 
HoyoB  ivllltaluiadvlcaiif  lUliiB.ibonld 
»t»y  [the  event. 

Vat  (or  BwMlo,  io  ahaps  and   guldo 
Phi.    Good  I     llonard,  I    irtll   slay 


Mlgbt  I  not  B^— to  pleaao  your  wife. 


pS'X 


SCKSE  n.—J  Itaom  in  the  Palace. 

Ktiy  nn-l  Civdlnol  Pole. 

Iiody  ClavencB  amlAlUa  iuiAe  bn^i- 


SfART. 

jtfarN,    Beglnalil    Pole,  irbat  ttnt 
baib  plaguMl  thj  bEnrt? 
'What  niftkeB  thy  favor  like  Ih« 

Ibbb  head  Itbe 

Fairii  on  Uie  block,  and  Itelil 
Philip?— 
poll.   Ho,  Fhlli))  is  aa  iram 

iTar/i.    Ay,  nnd  Uienat  culdai 


Timn  Calais  lakl^n.  Jallna  the  Till 
WUB  ever  juat,  and  mild,  aiHl  laifii 
like ;  [FDurt 
But  thin  :iB«  Pope  Cnrnffa,  Paul  iL_ 
Xo!.  ouly  reft  me  of  linulegal»Up 
"Which  Jullui  go—  —  — '  ■'—  ' 

Blllp 


QUEEN  MARY. 


401 


Deeming  me  heretic?  and  what  her- 
esy since  ? 
But  he  was  evermore  mine  enemy. 
And  hates  the  Spaniard— Hery-choieric. 

[wines. 
A  drinker  of  blacic,  strong,  volcanic 
That  ever  malLe  him  fierier.    I,  a  her- 
etic !  [ing  heresy 
Your  Highness  knows  that  in  pursu- 
1  have  gone  beyond  your  late   Lord 
Chancellor, —               [his  death.— 
He  cried   enough !    enough !     before 
Gone  beyond  him  and  mine  own  nat- 
ural man  [me  now. 
(It  was  God's  cause);  so  far  they  call 
The  scourge  and  butcher  of  their  En- 
glish (Hiurch. 
Mary.    Have  courage,  vour  reward 
is  Heaven  itself.          [into  the  fire 
Pole.  Thev  groan  amen :  they  swarm 
liike  flies— for  what  ?  no  dogma.  They 

know  nothing. 
They  burn  for  notliing. 
Mary.       You  have  done  your  best. 
Pole.    Have  done  my  best,  and  as  a 
faithful  son,  [father's  work, 

That  all  day  long  hath  wrought  his 
When  back  he  comes  at  evening  hath 
the  door  [loved, 

Bhut  on  him  by  the  father  whom  he 
His  early  follies  cast  into  his  teeth, 
And  the  poor  sou  tum'd  out  into  the 
street  [cousin. 

To  sleep,  to   die— I  shall  die  of    it, 
Mary.    I  pray  you  be    not  so  dis- 
consolate ;  [Pope, 
I  still  will  do  my  utmost    with  the 
Poor  cousin.                             [5'our  life 
Have  I  not  l)een  the  fast  friend  of 
Since  mine  began,  and  it  was  thought 
we  two                             [each  other 
Might  make  one  flesh,  and  cleave  unto 
As  man  and  wife. 

Pole.  Ah,  cousin,  I  remember 

How  I  would  dandle  you   upon  my 

knee  [once 

At  lisping-age.    I  watch'd  you  dancing 

With  your  huge  father  ;  he  look'd  the 

Great  Harry,  [did  it. 

You  but  his  cockboat;   prettily   you 

And  innocently.     No— we    were    not 

made  [liere ; 

One  flesh  in  happiness,  no  happiness 

But  now  we  are  made  one  llcsh  in 

misery ;  [appointment, 

Our  bridemaids  are  not  lovely — Dis- 

Ingratitude.  Injustice,  Evil-tongue, 

lADor-in-vain. 

Mary,  Surely,  not  all  in  vain. 

Peace,  cousin,  peace !     1  am   sad  at 
heai-t  myself. 
Pole.    Our  altar  is  a  mound  of  dead 
men's  clay, 
Duz  from  the  grave  that  yawns  for  us 
Deyond ;  [the  Groom, 

And  there  is  one  Deatli  stands  behind 
And  there  is  one   Death  stands   be- 
hind the  Bride— 
Mary.  Have  you  been  looking  at  the 
"Dance  of  Death?" 


Pole.    No;  hut  these  libellouB  pa» 

pers  which  I  found 

Strewn  in  your  palace.    Look  you  here 

— tlie  Pope  [tic, 

Pointing  at  me  with  **  Pole,  the  here- 

Thou  hast  burnt  others,  do  thou  bum 

thyself,  [see  !— 

Or  I  will  bum  thee, "  and  this  other ; 

•♦  We  pray  continually  for  the  death 

Of  our  accursed  Queen  and  Cardinal 

Pole." 
This  last— I  dare  not  read  it  her. 

[Aside* 

Mary.  Away ! 

Why  do  you  bring  me  these  ? 

I  thought  you  knew  me  better.  I  never 

read,  [my  dreams. 

I  tear  them  :   they  come  back    upon 

The  hands  tliat  write  them  should  be 

burnt  clean  off  [utter  them 

As   Cranmer's,    and  the   fiends   that 

Tongue-torn   with  pincers,  lash'd    to 

death,  or  lie  [ish'd  rats 

Famishing  in  black  cells,  while  fam- 

Eat  them  alive.    Why  do  they  bring 

me  these  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  drive  me  mad  ? 

Pole.  I  had  forgotten 

How  these   poor  libels   trouble   you. 

Your  pardon,  [ble  world, 

Sweet  cousin,  and  farewell !  **  O  bub- 

Whose  colors  in  a  moment  break  and 

fly  !  "  [true  enough  I 

Wliy.  who  said  t^iat  ?  1  know  not — 

IPuts  up  the  paperSf  all  but  the  last, 

which/alls. 

[Exit  Pole. 

Alice.    If  Cranmer's  spirit  were    a 

mocking  one  [sport  for  him. 

And  heard  these  two,  there  might  be 

(Aside, 

Mary.     Clarence,    they   hate    me ; 

even  while  I  speak 

There  lurks  a  silent  dagger,  listening 

In  some  dark  closet,  some  long  gallery, 

drawn, 
And  panting  for  my  blood  as  I  go  by. 
Lady    C.    Nay,   Madam,   there    be 
loyal  papers  too. 
And  I  have  often  fomid  tlicm. 
Mary.  Find  me  one  ! 

Lady  C    Ay,  Madam  ;  but  Sir  Nich- 
olas Heath,  the  Chancellor, 
Would  see  your  Highness. 
Mary.  Wherefore  should  I  see  him  ? 
Lady  C.  Well,  Madam,  he  may  bring 

you  news  from  Philip. 

^[ary.    So,  Clarence. 

La^ly  C.    Let  me  first  put  up  your 

It  tumbles  all  abroad.  [hair ; 

Mary.  And  tlie  gray  dawn 

Of  an  old  age  that  never  will  be  mine 

Is  all  the  clearer  seen.    No,  no ;  what 

matters  ? 
Forlorn  I  am,  and  let  me  look  forlorn. 
Enter  Sir  Nicholas  Heath. 
Heath.    I  bring  your  Majesty  such 
ffrievous  news 
I  grieve  to  bring  it.    Madam,  Calais  Uk 


r 


V 


Seine  biiu  I 


mforii 


2adj/  C. 


trUlghutiu  It  u 

.    Hadua,  TOUT  cliancellor, 
cholu  lieaOi. 
Jfiirw.    SirNldiolu?    1  am  Munn'd 
— Nielioliu  Healh  ?  [the  hea<l. 

Wliat  laicljim,  my  gDOd  Lord,  tlmt  our 

_'ld  ealllud  out  from  Cnlnia  and  driven 
The  Frenolunau  Itoiq  ihelr  irBUclieu  ? 

Tliac  gntenay  to  the   malnlanil  oTor 

r  Hag  liHtli  flo&ted  f  ut  tiro  liiuidriHl 

So ;  but  it  Is  not  lost— 


Li  Fran 

Mara. 

Not  yet. 

Did 


Send  01 


BCEuftlana 


llua  from 


po.    Sei.ll  ont,  M..;! 


L«t  every  CTHft  Ibat  carrln  Ball  uid 
Steer  tonitrdH  Calais.    Gulmes  U  iiot 


_  _)  mudi  fear  tJiat  England  will  ii 
MelMnka  there  ia   no  laaiihood  le 

JttfUTf-  ^end  ont  i  1  am  too  iruik  ' 

Btlr  abroad:  [PaTllunen' 

Tell  my  mind  to  the  Council— lo  tl 


To  bnbblo  or  their  coldnsH.    O  w< 


fne  1    Time  that  I 
.'■y.  If  tie  fe 


'  ^oI'b,' 


Ma^fy™! 
IfihlBb 

Ood  paxdon  t 


paper; 


SbalU 


Many  ol  Uiese  were  loyal 

of  BUcIl? 

Let  It  be,  lei  It  be 

va  ""Y^,^. 
people  hale  ]M 


ClaTencfif  Clarence^  iriint  hav«  I  dMtcT 

Tbatein  [Mother  ol  God. 

Beyond      all     grace,     nil      paidou  ? 


Tbou  Vnovett 
.nd  tit^  to 


[world. 


in  thlB 

My  people  liato   me  niul  (IhIib  nij 

iadg  C,    Kn,  Mixlani,  no.       [Ueaili. 

Hary,    My  IioBlmiiil  luilaB  me,  and 

lie^oi  lilt  death  [beU 

Lad}/  C.    So  ^Madam  ;  Ibaae  are  It- 

itary.    I  liate  iiiyBelt,  aiul  1  diunn 

my  dentil.        [9liall  Aliee  eiug  jvi 

tody  C.     Ijing  live  yont  MajBljI 

OnoofberpleasaiitBDiigir    Allre.lut 

child.  iHy  Ihn  gloom  ot  Saul 

BrlnBua  yonrlul«(AlliMj  ffOH).    Vifl 

Wa«  llehtflWd  by  young  Davlil'i  Urp. 

And    never  hiiew  a   Phill|M?^^Sr 
Alice)     niv<.«..>->— - 

Boflftt  derm  rf  won 

(roWlJiiD .' 
Beanlypaita  lite  ix 

htCia  loatkmg  -- 
Xoie,nv  <»U:  tjieat  lair.mg  lulr.lmt 

rajl  Ikt  vmrld  it  irof  Ain^— 
Low,  ItUe,  lAM .' 
loteviittJinBerroinui  itrJKiiftn  vim 


in  me  the  lUM, 


n  kapps  Ji 


QUEEN  MARY. 


408 


f 


WiCh  both  her  knees  diawn  apward  to 

her  chin, 
niere  was  an  old-world  tomb  beside 

my  father's, 
Andi  this  was  open*d,  and  tlie  dead 
were  found  [a  corpse. 

Sitting,  and  in  this  fashion  ;  she  looks 
:^iUer  Lady  Magdalen  Dacres. 
Lady  M.    Madam,  the  Count  de  Fe- 
ria  waits  without. 
In  hopes  to  see  your  Highness. 
Lady  C.  {pointing  to  Mary.)  Wait  he 
must—  [nor  hears, 

Her  trance  again.     She  neither  sees 
And  may  not  speak  for  hours. 

Lady  M,  Unhappiest 

Of  Queens  and  wives  and  women. 

Juice  (in  the  foreground  wiih  Lady 

Magoalen).  And  all  along 

OfPhmp. 

Lady  M,  Not  so  loud !  Our  Clarence 

there  [Queen, 

Sees  ever  such  an  aureole  round  the 

It  gilds  the  gi*eatest  wronger  of  her 

peace, 
"Who  stands  the  nearest  to  her. 

Alice,  Ay,  this  Philip  ; 

I  used  to  love  the  Queen  with  all  my 

heart—  [less 

God  help  me,  but  methinks  I  love  her 

For  such  a  dotage  upon  such  a  man. 

I  would  I  were  as  tall  and  strong  as 

you.  [to  be  BO  tall. 

Lady  M,  I  seem  half-shamed  at  times 

Alice.    You  are  the  stateliest  deer 

in  all  the  herd —  (scandalous. 

Beyond  his  aim— but  I  am  small  and 

And  love  to  hear  bad  tales  of  Philip. 

Lady  M,  Why? 

I  never  heard  him  utter  worse  of  you 
Than  that  you  were  low-staturetl. 

Alice,  Does  he  think 

Low  stature  is   low  nature,   or   all 

women's 
Low  as  his  own  ?  [nail. 

Lady  M.    There  you  strike  in  the 
This  coarseness  is  a  want  of  fantasy. 
It  is  the  low  man  thinks  the  woman 

low; 
Sin  is  too  dull  to  see  beyond  himself. 

Alice,    Ah,  Magdalen,  sin  is  bold  as 
How  dared  he  ?  [well  as  dull. 

Lady  M.     Stupid  soldiers    oft  are 
bold.  [eral  sees, 

Poor  lads,  they  see  not  what  the  geu- 
A  risk  of  utter  ruin.    I  am  not 
Beyond  his  aim,  or  was  not. 

Alice.  Who?   Not  you? 

Tell,  tell  me :  save  mv  credit  with  my- 
self, [bird  in  the  eaves. 
Lady  M.     I  never  breathed  it  to  a 
Would  not  for  all  the  stars  and  maiden 

moon 
Our  drooping   queen  should    know! 

In  Hampton  Court 
My  window  look'd  upon  the  corridor; 
And  I  was  robing;  —this  poor  throat 

of  mine, 
Barer  than  I  should  wish  a  man  to  see 
it.- 


When  he  we  speak  of  drove  the  win- 
dow back,  [hand : 
And,  like  a  thief,  pudi'd  in  his. royal 
But    by    God's    providence    a   good 

stout  staff 
Lay    near    me ;    and  you    know  me 

strong  of  arm ; 
I  do  believe  I  lamed  his  Majesty's 
For  a  day  or  two,  tho',  give  the  Devil 

his  due, 
I  never  found  he  bore  me  any  spite. 
Alice.    1  would  she  could  have  wed- 
ded that  poor  youth. 
My  Lord  of  Devon— light  enough,  God 
knows,  [the  boy 

And  mixt  with  Wyatt's  rising  — and 
Not   out   of  him— but  neither  cold, 

coarse,  cruel. 
And  more  than  all— no  Spaniard. 

Lady  C,  Not  so  loud. 

Lord  Devon,  gijls  !  what  are  you  whis- 
pering here  ? 
Alice.    Probing  an  old  state  secret— 
how  it  chanced        [foreign  travel. 
That  this  young   Earl  waa  sent   on 
Not  lost  his  head.  [him. 

Lady  C.    There  was  no  proof  agahist 
Alice.    Nay,  Madam ;  did  not  Gar- 
diner intercept  [wrote, 
A  letter  which  the  Count  de  Noailles 
To  tbat  dead  traitor,  Wyatt,  with  full 
proof                        [came  of  that  ? 
Of    Courteiiay's  treason?   What, be- 
Lady  C.    Some  Bay   that  Gardiner, 
out  of  love  for  him,  [lost 
Burnt  it,  and  some  i  elate  that  it  was 
When  Wyatt  sack'd  the  Chancellor's 

house  in  Soutbwark. 
Let  dead  things  rest. 

Alice.  Ay,  and  with  him  who  died 
Alone  in  Italy. 

Lady  C.  Much  changed,  I  hear,  [on. 
Had  nut  off  levity  and  put  graveness 
The  foreign  courts  report  liim  in  his 
manner  [shield. 

Noble  as  his  young  person  and  old 
It  might  be  so  —  but  all  is  over  now ; 
He  caught  a  chill  in  the  lagoons  of 
And  died  in  Padua.  rv^enice, 

Afary  (looking  up  suddenly).  Died  in 

the  true  faith  ? 
Lady  C    Ay,  Madam,  happily. 
Mary.    Happier  he  than  I. 
Lady  3/.  It  seems  her  Highness  hath 
awaken'd.    Think  you 
That  I  might  dare  to  tell  her  that  the 
Count —  [everjnore. 

Mary.    I  will  see  no  man  hence  for 
Saving  my  confef^6or  and  my  cousin 
Pole.  [dear  lady. 

Lady  M.  It  is  the  Count  de  Feria,  my 
Mui-y.    What  Count  ? 
Lady  M.    The  Count  de  Feria,  from 
his  Majesty 
KingPhiliD.  [hair  I 

Mary.  Pnilip !    quick  !   loop  up  my 
Throw  cushions  on  that  seat,  and  make 

it  throne-like. 
Arrange  my  dress— the  goigeoofl  Ilk- 
dian  shawl 


^ 


That  PblUp  brouGht  ni 


QUEEN 
oar  lappy 


■fhM 


QUBOllllko-  lentlll  ? 

Bridoof  tliemlgbtlextaoverelgii  uixiii 

Ilailu  C    Ay,  m  youc  Qrooo  would 
Morn,   No,  □□,  hobringsaletter.    1 
may  die 
fiefotoiFudlL  Lotmeseelitmatonce. 


j}^'^' 


.crlisiiabaniB. 
vfeliibuCUwlllbet- 
[briiig. 
Idrl^oaiit.  to  read  tlicleCteTwMcliviiu 
~  t-'i:    Madam,  I  bring  no  letter. 
Horn.    Howf  noletier? 
/Vr.  Hia  Uiibness  In  bo  vgx'iI  villi 

JfoTH-  ^^l  liu  own  wifo  Is  no  aSuir 
otlils.  [Turieat  lovo, 

/ir.  Naj.  Madam,  nay  rbesaodBlde 
And  BAyt  be  will  come  qulclcly. 

Marv  Doth  lie,  indeed  ? 

Von.  Blr,  do  yoa  remenibeT  wbst^ou 


My   KIiie'b  congialulalioiiB:    IC  waa 

'loped  [bappy  Btate 

-  ulabnesa  wan  ones  mote  in 
_    ,,     J  huo  an  lielc  male. 

Alary.  Sir,  you  said  mora ; 

Sou  Koid  liB  wonld  como  onickly.    I 

Iiulhoixea  llUglit: 

On  all  Ibe  nriid  tromDorer,  day  and 
On  all  1^0  road  from  Hanir^.  nigbt 

aiid  day ;  [Laud  ranie  uot ; 
But  tlie  child  came  not,  and  the  boa- 
Andyut  lie  will  como  quickly 

'Hioubiwtleanit  [need 

Thy  leBsnn  and  I  miuo.  Than)  ia  no 
For  Pliillu  so  to  shame  hioueUn^ln. 
Hetum,  [more. 

A»il  tell  hlsi  that  I  know  lie  cornea  no 
Tell  him  ai  last  I  know  hia  ]nve  li 

dead,  lilciub— 

And  that  I  am  in  Btale  to  hri  no  tonh 
Iliou  lU'c  commudau'd  to  Elicabctb, 

Fcr.  Mere  compliments  and 

widiBB.  Ijouryriwo? 

Bnt  Bhall  I  take  some  meraace  fmni 


ciyinseyBB,  [mygrai 

And  wear  my  irown.  and  rianee  upon 

/'«'.  Then  liUHy  aay  yow  Grace  will 

Your   Oince  1b  too  low-«piri(Bd.    Air 
and  sunahlne.  [wunu  Bpnln. 

Jn-onld  ne  !iad  yon,  Undini,  In  our 
You  droop  In  yooi  dim  Loiuion. 

Mnn.  Haie  hUn  away, 

I  Blckfl]!  of  bis  readincaa. 

LnAii  <:  Mr  Lord  Count, 

£e^  Bighnen  la  too  ill  for  colloquy. 

»  Ulghnei'a  better,  (^ili'r) 
hftmihnnii.         VEitunt, 


ScE-iE  III — A  UoMte  mar  lMid«*,\ 
EUiabelh,  Steward  of  the  Honseheli], 
'^fli    •niCTB'shalCaDaaigclwtang'd 


[need  not  go  i 


J^er<    Aa  fat  aa   Fnuico,   uui  InM 

Philip's  heart.  Tranmt. 

My  King  would  know  if  yoa  bo  IMilr 

And  lodged,  and  treateil . 

AVi:.  You  aeo  Oib  lodgtng,  air, 

I  BUI  well  Eerved,  and  am  Id  every 

tiibig  [Queoi,  I 

Most  loyal  and  moat  grotstui  le  "' 

Fer.  ■Youaliould  bo  i,ial«(iil  ti 

Ho  BjiokB  of  tl^lB  :  and  unto  him' yea 

That  Mary  bath  ackuowledgiHtj^liiier 

heir.  ((be  ueopla. 

Eiii,    No,nottoherorldm;%iirta 

Who  know  my  right.  Biidl   ' 

The  people  I  whom  Gm  ni 
Fer.  You  w; 

And  wore  I  Philip — 
Eliz.  WberetoTB  pause  j-ou—'uluitr 
Frr.    Nay,  I  but  speak  (roui  lal— 
own  self,  uol  blm : 
Your  toyal  Kister  cannot  la«t ;  n 
hand  [caio  in 

WtU  be  much  coreted  I    'WIJM  a  di 
Our  SpBiilEh  ladiea  bare  noue  luel 

andtboie,  [siuner  nlil— 

Wore  youluSpain.thlaftiie  tl^goi 


iSjmin,  thls] 
t  Dreailiinga 


IT  abmilder— 


Tiolb,  mme  bare  Bald  ao. 

Fer.    Would  ha  daenicd  a  nilmi ... 

Elii.  YourPblUphaUi«i)dJiiilrmi>l 

golden  beard,  [Uke  mine. 

There  most  be  iBdia  moily  wltli  half 

Fer.  Some  few  DfQolhluliluodhava 

golden  b^, 

But  none  li)<e  vonra. 

ElU.    1  am  luippy  Ton  npnmrfl 

f'V.    But  BB   to   l^biUp   and 

G  race— coiirider,— 

It  BUch  a  one  aa  yoQ  aboDld  Duitohwitt 

'What  bbiden  but  that  Spain  and  B 
\msia.iolu'd. 


QUEEN  MARY. 


40a 


Should  make  tlie    mightiest   empire 

earth  has  known. 
Spain  would  be  England  on  her  seas, 

and  England 
Mistress  of  the  Indies. 

Eliz,    It  may  chance,  that  England 
"Will  be  mistress  of  the  Indies  yet, 
Without  the  help  of  Spain. 

Fer,  Impossible ; 

Except  vou  put  Spain  down. 
Wide  of  the  markev'n  for  a  madman's 

dream.       [men.    Count  de  Feria, 

Eliz.    Perhaps  ;  but  we  have  sea- 

I  take  it  that  the  King  hath  spoken  to 

you  ;  [match  ? 

But    is    Don   Carlos   such  a   goodly 

Fer,     Don  Carlos,  madam,    is  but 

twelve  years  old. 

Eliz,    Ay,  tell  the  King  that  I  will 

nmse  upon  it ;  [keep  him  so  ; 

He  is  my  good  friend,  and  I  would 
But— he  would  have  me  Catholic  of 

liome. 
And  that  I  scarce  can  be  ;  and,  sir, 

till  now  [marriages, 

Mv  sister's  marriage,  and  my  father's 
Make  me  full  fain  to  live  and  die  a 

maid.  [King. 

But  I  am  much  beholden   to   your 
Have  you  aught  else  to  tell  me  ? 

Fer.  Nothing,  Madam, 

Save  that  methought  I  gather'd  from 

the  Queen  [fore  she — ilied. 

That  she  would  see  your  Grace  be- 

Eliz,    God's  death  !  aaul  wherefore 

spake  you  not  ])efor'3  ? 
We  dally  with  our  lazy  moments  here, 
And  hers  are  number'd.    Horses  there, 

without !  [u  J  aster. 

I  am  much  beholden  to  tlie  King,  your* 
WTiy  did  you  keep  me  prating.  Horses, 

there!  [Exit YAv/j&beWit  etc, 

Fer,    So  from  a  clear  sky  falls  the 

thunderbolt !  [Philip, 

Don  Carlos?    Madam,  if  you  marry 
Then  I  and  he  will  snalile  your  •*  God's 

death,"  [you  tame  ; 

And  break  your  paces  in,  and  make 
God's  death,  forsooth  — you    do  not 

know  King  Philip.  [Exit, 

Scene  IV.^London,    Before  the  PaU 

ace. 

A  light  burning  within.     Voices  of  the 
night  passing. 

1.  Is  not  yon  light  in  the  Queen's 
chamber  ? 

2.  Ay, 
They  say  she*s  dying. 

1.  So  is  Cardinal  Pole. 
May  the  great  angels  join  their  wings, 

and  make 
Down  for  their  heads  to  heaven  ! 

2.  Amen.    Come  on. 

[Exeunt. 

Two  Others. 

1.    There'sthe  Queen's  light.  I  hear 
she  caiwot  live. 


2.   God  curse  her  and  her  Legate  I 
Gardiner  bums 
Already  :  but  to  pay  them  full  in  kind, 
Tlie  hottest  hold  in  all  the  devil's  den 

[Guernsev, 

Were  but  a  port  of  winter  ;   sir,  in 

I  watch'd  a  woman  burn ;  and  in  her 

agony  [was  born — 

The  mother  came  upon  her— a  child 

And,  sir,  they  huiTd  it  back  into  the 

lire,  [babe 

That,  being  but  baptized  in  fire,  the 

Might  be  m  tire  forever.     Ah,  good 

neighbor,  [than  fire 

Tliere  should   be    something    fierier 

To  yield  them  their  deserts. 

1.  Amen  to  all 

You  wish,  and  further. 

A  3(1.  Voice.  Deserts  !  Amen  to  what? 
Whose  deserts  ?  Yours  ?  You  have  a 
gold  ling  on  your  finger,  and  soft 
raiment  about  your  body  ;  and  is  not 
the  woman  up  yonder  sleeping  aftei 
all  she  has  done,  in  peace  and  qidet 
ness,  on  a  soft  bed,  in  a  closed  room, 
with  light,  fire,  physic,  tendance ;  and 
I  have  seen  the  true  men  of  Christ 
lying  famine-dead  bv  scores,  and  under 
no  ceiling  but  the  cloud  that  wept  on 
thein,  not  for  them. 

1.    Friend,  tho'  so  late,  it  is  not  safe 

to  preach.  [you? 

Y'ou  had  best  go   home.     What  are 

,3.  What  am  I  ?  One  who  cries  con- 
tinually with  sweat  and  tears  to  the 
Lord  God  that  it  would  please  Him 
out  of  His  infinite  love  to  break  down 
all  kingship  and  queenship,  all  priest- 
hood and  prelacy  ;  to  cancel  and  abol- 
ish all  bonds  of  human  allegiance,  all 
the  magistracy,  all  the  nobles,  and  all 
the  wealthy ;  and  to  send  us.  again, 
according  to  his  promise,  the  one  King, 
the  Christ,  and  all  things  in  common, 
as  in  the  day  of  the  first  church,  when 
Christ  Jesus  was  King. 

1.    If  ever  I  heard  a  madman,— let's 

away !  [beyond  me. 

Why,  you  long-winded—    Sir,  you  go 

I  pnde  myself  on  being  moderate. 

Good  night !  Go  home.    Besides,  you 

curse  so  loud. 
The  watch   will  hear  you.    Get  you 
home  at  once.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  Y— London.     A  Boom  in  the 
Palace. 

Gallery  on  one  side.  The  moon- 
light streaming  through  a  range  vf 
windows  on  the  wall  opposite. 
Mary,  Lady  Clarence,  Lady  Mag- 
dalen Dacres,  Alice.  Queen  pacing 
the  Gallery.  A  writing-table  in 
front.  Queen  comes  to  ilie  table  and 
writes  and  goes  again  t  pacing  the 
Gallery. 

Lady  C.    Mine  eyes  are  dim  :  what 

hath  she  written  ?  read,    [to  me.** 

Alice.     ♦'I  am  dying,  Philip ;  como 


inilH  M.  There— op  » 


jiilight  nujemeiitii  patWni'ii 

Following  lici  like  ber  earrow.     S)w 

[Queen  lUn  onji^  ion>«  mrf^ffiwf^nii 


Xnrfj/  C     What  halli^  i 


,»i 


i™ 


.  all  SI 


£wrNl 


It  donbt  but  UiaC  he  wim* 
IsvlUiyouliinmrjiuiire  etlll. 
look-a  upon  so  fairallkeiieM 

■  ireat  King  In  acnioc  Iliece, 

iliBlmet.  lhlBha]iii 

To  f*i  poytrait  v"  Philip 


in  hit 


Doth  hi 
eard  of   Mm 


:  noblo  ? 


eveu  yeftra  older  iluui 
I  Poorboy.  Ufcepii. 

'        ""!.     Tliat  iraa   a  lugty  hoy   of 
en^r-Bevon  ;   ^  [^«/t! 

„  __.....  — And  all  in  yaln  ! 
[  The  Queen  oF  Scots  la  nwrrleii  In  the 
I  IMiiphlii.  [world  la  gone ; 
[  And  Chai'luB,  the  lonl  i>r  thle  low 
auiJ  wiadoms  past 


li  Poor  enongh  In  Uod's  \ 


II  foil  on 


I    Catnli   the    t 


I    Wh™'' 


Mn-rg.    What  1»  Uie  ilrang 
happlneia '.'    Sit  dciwii  lien 
"■■'ie  happieat  hoar. 


twenty  mllee, 
row  niea  n>-e, 


i  Bhallow  brook    acitm 


Ithe  wai 
hflbble   nil 


irs.     ThU 

not  uat.  iQneau  rr«i 

Mnen.     1  vhlsae  to  the  bhil  has 

nd  all  in  yaR^'  [Siltlna  rfoi™. 

_i_i_  -- mg — QnlBDBt  gone,  too — and 


Bete™  the  Queen.  Hu  hml  his  gra. 
Altho'  you'll  not  bellevB  nio.  How 
As  it  ha  lovoil  ma  yet  I  [he  smiles 

iarfM  V.  And  HI  hn  doe^ 

lathers  policy  'ng^iie 


ibruulL 
jkn^i  uoui  were  siicut.  letting  the  wilit 
3pesl(  for  us— till  Im  atoop'd  and  gMh- 

rnmi  out  a  bed  of  tlildt  (orget-uio- 
Look'd  hsrO  BiiU  sWMt  Bt  lue,  «ndg»vs 

It  me, 
I  tnalilt.il>o'IdIdnDt  knowl  look  ft. 
Anil  put  11  iu  my  bosom,  nnd  all  Mann* 
I  felt  Wa  arma  liboiil  me,  nn4  his  lips— 
Mary.  OOodl  1  have heeu tou tlaol. 

There  are  Hot  Goaiielleis  even  mong 

our  guards—  [but  bunil 

Koblea  ve  dared  iiotlonrh.    Wehsia 

The  horetlo  priesr,  workmoii,  and  tw 

men  and  uhihlren. 
■Wet,  faniln  e,  ague,  fever,  sUJiTOiWreek, 
wrath.—  laud's  jrrBM^ ' 

■WehHvewinlaY'dlbemwanl;  Gulbj 
We'll  f oUowPhllip's  loll  dlilg.  Olid  set  np 
ThellntyOmceh«re— cimierthewbeu, 
... ., .^ B ivfih  miquanchabto 


Sir,  we  am  ptlvate  wil 
Ever  a  toueh,  bluut,  i 

Thou  liehc  a  torch  that 
Tla   oxit-mliie  daniei. 


liul)!  U.    Kay,    dearest    Laily,   s 
_  your  good  physician. 

■,  M:ir:i.  Itrnn— but  he  knows  th 
■t  cannot  help  ma— laytt  [think 
"  ■"-■     -  -  Is  all— tells  melmiist  n 

t  rest— i  slinll  rest  liy  ai.- 
rwhen  he  mrln[« 

ishlmwlf  agsLnt  the  htat, 
■est:"  thnTB  him  real— 

must  Wl!  him  it  j™  wonld 
Jlre  you  cannot  inHko  him 

Your  Mnjosty  Iim  ]1v<n1  so 
Buul^  mighty  Things  by  Holy 

fJtruatCliat  God  Mill  iLftlCB  ^nvtVLii^r^ 


ir,  you  were  burnt  tor  liemy, 


II  the  s1A( 

(ImiKl  Mill 
laUicrigbl 


1  'twas  1  and  Bomu 


Gentle  as  In  111 
Aiirr.      Mad; 


7     Kin, 


quee:^  atary. 


Mary,    'So.  FLIIlp  comsi  uul  goea, 

Women,  wlTen^^i'i  dead, 
Opeii  niT  liBiul,  and  Uien  you  irill  fln^ 
wnllen  lliii.- 

Two  Kumeg.  Pbillp  Mid  CitlBiB  :  open 


FodI  mng^tB  crawUng  lu  a  feater'd 
Ailulterous  10  Cbe  len  Leart  ol  Hell. 
Ban,  tliou  o  knife  ?        [Ood'B  merey- 

Mnry.    Fool,  tMnl;Vl  Ihoul'wonld 


Alltr.  Take  liaeit,  lake  heed  I 

Tbe  blade  Is  keeii  si  deatb. 

Man.  Tills  l*laiHp  Bliall  not 

St>»  In  upon  nie  In  tiiy  liaKgariliieis ; 
OM,  misenble,  dlaeaiKd,  [down. 

Incapable    of    cbildim-    Come    ihou 

tloKK.  [my  Plillip. 

Lietbeie.  (R'oili.)  00od,ltiavokil1ed 

Alice.  Ko  [odt, 

Madam,  von  have  but  cut  the  cauvu 
We  can  replaco  it. 

Marji.  Alt  is  well  then  ;  rest— 

Iwill  to  rest ;  liesiild,!  must  have  reiC 

[Cria  af  "EllMbotU"  in  Ihg  ilreet. 
Aotyl  What'slhat?  Elizabeth  ?  re- 
volt? [Wyatt? 
A  new  Nortlinrnbetland,  another 
I'll  fight  It  on  the  threshold  ol  the 

lailg  C.    Msdam.  your  royal  sister 
Mary.    I  will  not  seo  lier. 

Ivltlseei 


^ntthenriesl.   You 

[/•i.  IjHlvClurana 

O  Salht  of  Aowun,  W'    -  -  -    - 


iinllo 


,\^?" 


Among  thy  pMIeut  wrinkles— help  me 

The   PTleM_7mHa.     F.nleT  EUiabetli 
nml  Sir  William  Ceell. 
Eliz.    Good  counsel  yoara— 

Ko  one  In  waiting?  1(111, 
As  ir  the  chamberlain  were  l>eatb  hlm- 

The  room  she  rteeps  In— Is  not  lliii  liie 
Ko,  tliM  way  tbero  bio  voices.  Am  I 
(way. 


[E, 


labeth. 


ai  dieam  ot  worlds 


Mlscolor    thiiies    i 
Forhlm.  orhim— SI 


mt   her— (uddeii 


?K 


well 


But-if  let  be-bala_._.  _... 
Brave,  wary,  same  to  IhB  hear 
—» Tudor  [Uole 

Scbool'd  by  ibe  ehndow  ot  <1 
Ulaiiciiig  across  ibe  Tudor— not 


How  IB  (he  good  QucBi)  noir  ? 

Atlcf.  Awnj  from  Pbillp. 

Back  In  her  chlhlhood— prottllng  to 

her  mother  ICbnrleB. 

Of    her    betrothal    to    the    Enipeior 

And  vblldlike-Mulous  of  biui  again- 

Shotlmnk'.l  her  fiilhr-r  sweetly  for  his 
AgoJiietthatgodleuGerumii.  Ata,tbos3 

Warchappv.  It  was  nerar  merry  world 
lu   England,   since  tbe   Bible    eama 


Cecil.    It  never  n  ill  bo  merry  world 

In  Englaiiil,  [poor. 

Till  all  men  have  tlielr  Bible,  rich  end 

Alicr-    Tho  Qneon  is  dying,  or  you 

dare  not  say  it. 

Baltr  ElliabeLb. 
Eli:.    The  Queen  Is  dead. 

Etii.    She  kiiew  me,  and  acknowl- 
edged nie  ber  heir, 
Pray'ame  to  pay  ber  debta.and  keep 
thsh'aitli;  [in  peace. 

Then  claspt  the  cross,  and  pass'daway 
I  left  her  lying  (till  and  beautiful. 
More    beautiful    than   in  life.     Why 
should  you  vei  younelC. 

To  be  your  Queen.   To  reign  IsrestleM 
Tierce,  gnait,  nnU  liickety.    Peace  Is 

with  tbe  dead.  [ulpl: 

Her  IKe  was  wlnler.  for  ber  sprlnawaa 
And  slie  lOTMl  much :  piay  UmI  sbe  be 

forgiven. 
Cecil.     Peace  with   Ihs   dead  who 

That  never  tngllshmonarchdylng left 
England  so  little. 

Elii.  But  witi  Cecil's  rid 

And  others,  if  our  peison  be  aecured 
From  ttallor  BUtba-we  will  make  Eng- 
land great. 
Enttr  Paget,  avil  other  Lords  ot  Iba 
Council,  gir  Italph  nagenhall,  elc. 
Lnrda.    God     wive     Elizabeth,    the 

Queen  of  England! 
Bag.    Ood  tave  the  Crown ;  tho  Pa- 

Pfu/rt  (ojii/r}.  A  re  we  no  sure  ot  that? 
..^ccfamaJian.    Ood  aave  the  Queen  I 


AQAHDIlHliBro-Mlijbreiithanilblooiii  O  Osrden 

of  spring—  b!oo.l1 

TbfPuuBooyonderfroiniiiiRTigllBhBlra  OslraHgel 

Crying  ■'  wltli  my  laluB  eyg  I  omrwliBlin  wid  »B 

'i'lie  xiiLliic  veei : "  Budlimcy  tiears  ibe  Wlitra  diI; 

ring                                            Islng,  Ulght,  rlt 

OI  harnoBa,  nnd  tbst  deatbful  arrow  maks 

Auil  Saioii  LaLtle-ajio  clnug  oiiNfiriiuui  But  lio  au( 

helm.                                      [re&lm  ^  EaiiiBtani 

UeiB  rose  Iha  OtagDu-bumei  uf  our  b«low. 


O  Oarden  blDBSuming  out  i 
ite-bealcrXima) 


- JhB,ifM.uluo 

Eaiii  BtaiKt*  full  (ace  k 


g  EdwBiTi  Uie  Coutessor. 

Sligaud,  cFeated   Archbuhoji  if  Can 

terlrary  6b  Ik',  Anti-poat  Boiiedtcl. 
Aldrad.  ArclMihop  qf  VorX. 
The  Normwi  Bliibop  of  I«udon. 
Harold.  JCarl  qT  Wc«seit ,  ly- ' 

iericanU  JClHy  of  Eiig- 

TosUe.  Earl  or  NoAuiu- 
Gurtb.  Eatl  qfkiuiT,  AngUa. 
Leotwiu,  Earl  qf  ifeiil  ani 


A. 


Wn'.rnotb. 

(,'ouul  WiJllatn  of  Normi 
'WlUUui  Kafua. 
■WllUaui  Mnlet,  a  Karma 


mdy. 


Edwin, ffnrtVMwrin.]  c™. 
Mnmar.  KiM-lnCNuHli-f  '^"".'Ji 


Guv,  tWuii  or 
KolE,  a  Ponlhi 

HugliMMgot, 

OBgod  atut  Atbelric,  (iaunit/tvm  Wit 


Editb,  IfurU  n/KlngEdwar£ 
■.outdera,  EaiU  nnif  Tlmiiea,  M«b 


CtSmUi 


I  ACT  I. 

f  BCBSEI— I«niion.  The  King's  Palm 
I,  {A  nmct  trrn  Ihrawili  ■• 

aow.1    Aldwytb,  Gan 
Wf  tins  loqtther. 
riTtl  (liurricr.    1^  I  tbere  nnoe  more 
—tills  Is  tbe  BeTHUtb  ulglit!  [ei^urga 
.    Ton  grlmly-Elarlug,  Iroble-bnuidlibed 
01  Eiiglund  f 
Bivond  CmiTttfT.    Horrible  I 


I 


That  dayioE 
TAinJ   Courier.    - 
~  11  who  »HpB 


'."yyl 


To  rizht  ajiil  feftj^anitcuinoCecapetlie 
flamp. 
E  Cnnrr.    Stmm'd  upworil  from  the 


1  Onirf.    Or  floated  dawnwBTdfttn 

OI  God  ATuilgbly. 

AMwvIK  Game],  son  of  Otn 

What  thlnKest  tbon  Ibis  meaiiaV 

Gamtl,  War.  nij  dear  ladr! 

Alii.    DoUiUilB  ntTilglil  then? 
MighUly,  my  " 


Not  ot 


Stand  by  u 


Enttrltaiaa. 


Jtfnrrar.    It  glorc* 


n,S*flsMl 


.n  im  a>  thii'k  lU  be«i  below. 


Look  to  the  akieB,  Uien  K 


Thalr  heaiti,  ind  hold  Uieir  babtea  up 

I  think  tbat  they  vould  Molochlis  Uiem 

"-■ '-'--iTsn*  clear. 

They  fright  not  ma. 

_ in.ftfter  kimGanb. 

Aaklhou  LotdlieoEwinn-batlio  thinks 
)I  this  t  [lleve,  that  Chwe 

IS  roiia  or  WooU-ied  Die  up  yonder 

doom  of  England  and  the  vtMii  ol 
shop  qf  London  {paiiiag).  Did  ye 
.lot  cast  with  bosfial  TiolenCB  [all 
Our  holy  Korman  biBhops  down  fivm 
Their  Chrouos  In  England?    J  aloua 

Why  should  not  Heaven  bo  wroth  ? 
jMiflein.  With  ue  or  theo  ? 

Jlp.  of  /ymrf .    Did  ya  not  oallawyour 
archbishop  Itobertr 
Boberto(  Jumieges— well-njghmnnier 
Mm  too?      *  iHeaTSn? 

Is  there  no  reason  for  the  wrath  o( 
Zfof.    Why  then  the  wrath  of  Het 
yeu  bath  tlireo  talla,         {London. 
The  dexil  only  one.       iExil  Bishop  of 
infer  AichblabopStlgand. 

Aek  our  Accbhisbop. 

Sticsnd  should  know  the  purposes  of 

HeaTou.  [lace  of  heaven, 

Sllgantt.    Notl.    I  cannot  read  the 

Perhang  our  vines  will  grow  the  better 

lor  It.  [the  king's  (nee  on  his  coins, 

tqf.   (laa-jhijig^    Ho  can  but  cead 

llg.   Ay,  ay,  young  lord,  Ihere  the 

Mng'i  face  Is  poiver.  [lie  fear, 

JuTlS.    O  father  mock  not  at  a  uuh- 

Battell  us,  la  this  pendent  hell  inboa' 

.  harm  to  Enghlnd  ? 
Slig,  Aak  It  of  King  Edward ! 

.ndhe  may  tell  thee,  /  am  A  harm  to 

Euglanil. 
ltd  ancanonlcal  Stlgand— ask  of  me 
mo  had  my  palUum  from  an  Antl- 

Kot  he  the  man— (or  In  onr  windy 
^Vbnl•8  up  is  faith,  wliafii  .iown  U 
'    resy.  [shako  hla  chair, 

rtends,  tho   NormaiiB,    holp    to 

annot  niijwec  sanely  .  .  .  What 

ir  broad  Earl.  IPoiMing  to  Har- 


AlbeltnorolUncs 


Is  easier  than  inino  here. 


UUneit  thon  Mthec .' 


Gamel.    T»daT,  KOO^EI*!'!. 

Har.  le  Uie  North  quiet,  Gamelt 
Gomel,  Nay,  there  be  murmurs,  fo 
thy  brother  breaks  us 

(Fith  over-tailjig— quiet,  ay,  as  yet — 

IJotMug  as  yet. 
Uar.    Siaiidbyhlm.mlneoliiiriBnd, 


w  111  Nor... 
[he 


dvleehhn:  speak  Mmsweetiy,  he  will 
a  Is  i^sslonaM  but  honest,  sta"-* 
thou  by  him  I  [nelrd  si 


talk  of  this 
Not  blast  ns  hi  ot 
father  Stlgand- 


ma.'— W^ll. 


•hoaf/vojices  to  hint* 
Tigarul  (pointing  to  Ike  coaull.    War 
here,  my  sou?  la  that  the  doom 
of  En  Eland  ? 

far.    Why  not  the  doom  ct  all  Ilia 
world  ns  well?  [land, 

■all  the  woridseesltas  well  as  Enj- 


any  :  it  threi 


|m< 


Thlnea  that  seem  Jerk'dout  of  thoc 
Of  N'ature  is  tlio  hot  icligloui  fool, 
Who,  seeing  war  in  heaven,  for  I 

irth  :  hut  look  where  Ed- 


r  ToBtig  mar 

[tiger  In  hin-. 

Linf.  And  fte  hath  ieanit,dcepltotha 

To  sleek  and  supple  himself  to  tl  - 

king's  band,  [cures  tlie  ei 

GurlS.    Itrusttheklnglytouchth 

Mayseryetocharmthotlgeroutotliii 

Leaf.  Hohsthasmuchof  caCBstig 

III  him.  [ma 

OnrToelLglDTesthobandBnd  not  IJ 

ifnr.    Say  •    Better  die  than  lie  I 

Enter  ElDg,  Queen  and  Toatig. 

Edto-  In  hwiTen  signs  I 

Signs  upon  eartli  I   signs  everywhere  1 


Halt   Norman-blooded,  i 


-\ 


I  liBve  vranght  mlnclM— I 


111/  m&Mle. 


HAROLD. 

lod  liio     Of  EngtandP-Tliat  « 


■.-llmTBfmiBhtthofigllllilH 
>velJ  «i^iiiio!tGu'»]i»eo(  yni 


yer  uid  fe 


— M.    (otide).         Sks  ho  intotliliie, 
Tbalthou  voul(IstluiveliIspranil9eri.ir 
lliB  crowii  7  [iirt  loo  lianl, 

'diB.  ToetlEWtjutrue  ;  uy  too.  tbi.u 
;  itflttgBt'iibj' thli  omliioiM  oorili 
mill  LenTeii :  [witie  Inom, 

But  licsTDii  Slid  mrlli  nre  tliieutsol  t  he 
Play  liiio  oiia  uiotlier,  aiul  weavD  tba 

ThRt  iiiuT  confonnd  theo  yoC 

liar,  Nny.  I  trnBtTHit. 

Furl  lig.vo  ■enBltliaDloiigauUlioiml- 

eJw.  I  knniT  It,  IDU ;  I  am  iiol  thank- 

losa :  IIioii  [mg 

Hast  broken  b1]  nw  fow,  lighten 'd  lor 

n-oigbt  Bt  cLiii  pour  «(a<ni,  and 


■ayerto  eaiii  a  iMI 
irvicolEnglaudlo 

10  rule  lier  I 


, jt  prayei 

Tnal  VB  yeara  oIi '  - 

tliee  for  U, 
Tlioii  art  the  ml 

Jlnr.    Ami  after  thOBE 

n  boon,  my  bins, 

Respite,  a  liollihiy ;  thyself  wnat  wont 

To  (ova  the  chsae  :  thy  leuia  lu  set  my 

toet  IlliB  seas  I 

On  board,  and  hunt  ami  linnkM  beyond 

jEiIid.  ^V]l■t,  with  lhl>  flaming  horcor 

aTerhood  V 
Jlar.    WeU,  fhon  It  paaE«B  then. 
£ifiF.  AylCllpBH, 

Go  not  to  Kormandy— go  noC  to  lioi-- 
maiidy.  [to  Komiandy  7 

Bar.    And  wherefore  not,  mykiiiK, 
Is  not  my  brother  Wnlfnoth  hostago 


Ipraj 


id  father>a  loyalty  to  thBe  ? 
IT  tlioe,  let  me  beuce  and  iiiiiig 
ifm  home.  [meaBoiirar. 

Uotthoe.niTBon:  Boma  other 
Ami  why  not  me,  my  lord,  to 

Uio  Norman  Count  tl^-  trloiii 
BOloX— 


In  FlnnUerB.  [Ilelilt  I 

F.,lv-.    He  (here  not  fair  wooi&anAj 
IliKngland?    WilfBl,  wilful.  Oo-thll 
SiSuts  " 

Pilot  and  proaperall  thy  waiitleilnK  ml 
Ami  liomeward.     ToHUg,  I  —   "  ■ 

Son  Harold,  I  will  In  and  pay  tor  thecfl 
{ExU  leaniHnmt  Toatis.  a>i''/Uliwa 
ed  by  Stlgaud,  Morcar,  ma  C<iur>S 

Har.    What  lies  upon  the  mind  ti 
autBoadking  [nB    ■  '' 

That  he  iboaM  harp  thia  way  oi: 
<fucH,    Biotlior,  tiu  king  il^ 

Ami  ToMig  knows  it :  Tosttg  loi 


11  ToBtig  n 


i1  kuow ;  nil^ 


lU-*nltr  TOBllg, 

'Well,  brother,  rnmbrlafl 

When  dUlBt  Ihon  hear  from  thy  KnnM 

Toil^.    Whan  iliillhenr  Jiughiibv*" 

LeajB  ma 

look  to  hern 


The  King  bath  made  ma 

Nor  make  Uia  King  a  foe.,  .. 

Jiar.    No.TosUg— loatlmill 

a  fool  [moke  t 

■Who  mode  the  King-"- 

ToMliB.    Why  chafe 
knowBBC  1  soon  co  vild. 

Garili.    Come,  some  I    ta 
art  not  goite  BO  wild 


[me  Boil  tl 
,  who  nu  ■- ' 

JbUi.^ 


Toil[g,hatbheeiiaklngilom.  ThelioU 
I>  yet  Bfarce  among  them,  ■  tan  hC 
But  learlug  light  enough  focAlfgar't 
houie  Ighaatly  gian 

To   strike   thee   down    ^— iiiv.  UiU 
May  heat  Iheir  fanclet, 

Toitlg.    My  most  n-orthy  brother. 


HAROLD. 


411 


8tt  toinuoft  iu  the  field  of  England, 

envy, 
Like  the  roush  bear  beneath  the  tree, 

{good  broUier, 
Waits  till  the  man  let  go. 

Toatig,  Good  counsel  truly  I 

I  heard  from  my  Norlhunibria  yester- 
day, [Northunibria  ?  Well  ? 
Har.    How  goes  it  then  with   tliy 
Tostig,    And  wouldst  thou  that  it 

went  aught  else  than  well  ? 
Har.  I  would  it  went  as  well  as  with 
mine  earldom. 
Leof  win's  and  Qurth*s. 
To8tlg.       Ye  govern  milder  men. 
Gurth.    We  have  made  them  milder 

by  just  government. 
Tostig.     Ay,  ever   rive  yourselves 

your  own  eood  wow. 
Le<\f'    An   honest  gift  by   all  the 
Saints,  if  giver 
And  taker   be  but  honest !  but  they 

bribe 
Each  other,  and  so  often,  an  honest 

world 
Will  not  believe  them. 
Har.  I  may  tell  thee,  To8> 

tig.  fday. 

I  heard  from  thy  Northumberland,  to- 

[my  nakedness 
Toitig^   From  spies  of  thine  to  spy 
In  my  poor  North  I 

/far.    There  is  a  movement  there, 
A  blind  one— nothing  yet. 

Tostia,  Crush  it  at  once 

Witli  all  the  power  I  have !— 1  must— I 
will !—  fdom  there, 

Crush  it  half-bom  !  Fool  still  ?  or  wis- 
My  wise  head-shaking  Harold  ? 

Har,  Moke  not  thou 

The  nothing  something.  Wistlom  when 
in  power  [but  smile 

And  wisest,  should  not  frown  as  Power, 
As  kindness,  watching  all,  till  the  true 
must  [when  to  strike — 

Shall  make  her  strike  as  Power  :  but 
O   Tostig,   O  dear  brother— if    they 

prance, 
Bein  in,  not  lash  them,  lest  they  rear 

and  run 
And  break  both  neck  and  axle. 

Tostig.  Good  again ! 

Good  counsel  tho*  scarce  needed.  Pour 

not  water 
In  the  full  vessel  running  out  at  top 
To  swamp  the  hoiflse. 

Leqf.  Nor  thou  be  a  wild  thing 

Out  of  the  waste,  to  turn  and  bite  the 

hand 
Would  help  thee  from  the  trap. 
Tostig,  Thou  playest  in  tune. 

Leqf,    To  tlie  deaf  adder  thee,  that 
wilt  not  dance 
However  wisely  charmM. 

Tostia,  No  more,  no  more  ! 

Ourth.    I  likewise  cry   *no  more.* 

Unwholesome  talk  [nast  a  tongue ! 

For  Godwin's  house!    l>eofwin,  thou 

Tostig,  thou  lookst  as  thou  would'st 

spring  upon  him. 


St.  Olaf,  not  while  I  am  by !    Comt^ 

come. 
Join  hands,  let  brethren  dwell  in  unity; 
Let  kith  and  kin  stand  close  as  our 
shield-wall,  [a  tongue. 

Who  breaks  us  then  ?  I  say,  tliou  hast 
And  Tostig  is  not  stout  enough  to  bear  it 
Vex  him  not,  Leof  win. 

Tostig,  No,  I  am  not  vext,— 

Altho'  ye  seek  to  vex  me,  one  and  all. 
I  have  to  make  report  of  my  good  earl- 
dom [you. 
To  the  good  king  who  gave  it— not  to 
Nor  any  of  you,— I  am  not  vext  at  all. 
Har,    The  king?  the  king  is  ever  at 
his  prayers ; 
In  all  that  handles  matter  of  tho  state 
I  am  the  kins. 

Tostig.       That  shalt  thou  never  be 
If  I  can  thwart  thee. 
Har.  Brother,  brother  t 

Tostig,  Away ! 

[Exit  Tostig. 

Qufen,    Spite  of  this  grisly  star  ye 
Poor  Tostig.  [three  nmst  gall 

Leof.    Tostig,  sister,  calls  himself. 
Ho  cannot  smell  a  rose  out  pricks  his 

nose  [rose. 

Against  the  thorn,  and  rails  against  tho 

Qtieeii.    1  am  the  only  rose  of  all  tlie 

stock  [him,  so 

That  never  thom'd  him ;  Edward  loves 
Ye  hate  him.  Harold  always  hated  him. 
Why— how  they  fought  when  boys— 

and.  Holy  Mary  ! 
How  Harold  used  to  beat  him! 

Har.,  Why,  boys  will  fight. 

I.«ofwin  would  often  fight  me,  and  I 

beat  him.  Imuch  ado 

Even  old  Gurth  would  fight.  I  had 
To  hold  mine  own  against  old  Gurth. 

Old  Gurth,  [cause ;  but  Tostig— 
We  fouglit  like  great  states  for  sravo 
On  a  sudden — at  a  something— for  a 

nothing—  [wo  fought 

The  boy  would  fist  me  hard,  and  when 
I  conquer'd,  and  he  loved  mo  none  tlio 

less,  [tell  him 

Till  thou  wouldst  get  him  all  auart,  and 
That  where  he  was  but  worsted,  ho  was 

wrong'd.  [him  too  : 

Ah  !  thou  hast  taught  the  king  to  spoil 
Now  the  spoilt  child  sways  both.  Tako 

heed,  take  heed ; 
Thou  art  the  Queen ;  ye  are  boy  and 

girl  no  more : 
Side  not  with  'J'ostig  in  any  violence. 
Lest  thou  be  sideways  guilty  of  the  vio- 
lence, 
Quee^i.    Come  fall  not  foul  on  me.  I 

leave  thee,  brother. 
Har,   Nay,  my  good  sister— 

[Exeunt  Queeni  Harold,  Gurth  and 
Leofwin. 

Aid,  Gamel,  son  of  Orm, 

What  thinkest  thou  this  means  ? 

[Pointing  to  the  comet, 
Gomel  War,  my  dear  lady, 


\ 


Wk,  waste,  plague,  famlnB,  all  ni«llg- 
ultlee.  Llii*  earldotn. 

Aid.  ItmeBnatbefanoCroitigfniin 
GuiMf.  a'bal  were  too  email  a  iiiallar 
(or  M.  comet  1  \liouaa  Ul  A  Kb*'- 
Jlia.  It  uieuu  Uia  IKUiie  of  iLa 
Oamel.    Too  raiall !   ■  eamvl  would 

Aid.  Not  anmll  lot  Uiee  ll  U«>o  caiist 
Gomd.    TUy  Ioyo  ?  [tnua  -, 


Stirap  thjrpiiaiila :  i 


tMiii  ! 

Aiul  thy  lore  ? 


18  ^dd;. 


[rrfen.    Tlir  Kin;, 
to,  posDlnnate 


£dUh.  Mail  (or  thy 

ut^iUiigulo  .  .  .  ,u.=..,. , 

lOTB  Ihoo  rof  It— ay.  hnl  swya  mo- 
il can  bat  Rtayamonioiit;  habi^tig. 
^iiimuldliaarlilnicaiDing! . .  .iioar 


lolhiiio. 


(SiBffinjf,) 
Zam  is  eojue  ailh  a  hmi^  and  rt  irtAle, 
Weleoma  Loi-awith  a  aiaiU  rtitd  a  aonQ : 
Zoic  can  ilai/  bui  a  liitii  wiUe. 
Wky  cannot  h»  tiau  f    Tlua  colt  Mm 


Enter  Harold. 
Bar.    Tho  niglitiiigalea  at  HsTBrtng- 
t^it'^ 


iii-Uie-bowar 
none  out  llioi]  ' 
Were  .Icalen' 

dumb,  auc 
I  dumh  thee  1 

£dil>i.    Thou 
their  wliiga  ■ 
TofollovrUtet 


thus 


Id  he 


d  Ihei] 


(gain  1 
>y  v1ng1e»  iilghllii- 

.  my  mualo  I'T^onlii 

ianJenI  Hnsttlion 

must,  liat  will,    't  i«  Tint 


ic'diiibor  bate;  I 


At  lea>t  metliouBlit  she  htlil  with  holt 

Hdwanl, 
ThBt  mariiage  wiu  hall  sbi. 

Finger  and  t]lDtnb—IhuB(9napi  jtit^ii- 

oart).   And  my  aiisWHC  lo  It— 
See  neta — aii  luterworen  H  Bud  E 1 
TaJie  tboa  this  dug ;  I  will  denuiid 
hie  ward  {would  alw  V 

From  EdwBnl  when  I  come  agahi.  Ay. 
She  ttPBhulnp  myblouomlii  theilortl 
Tbou  nrt  mp  uuu,  thy  cloister  lu  mlu« 

Edith.  Jfiil'ing  ihs  ri«0).     yea,lnii 

1  Bhoulj  M 

onongh. 

Ay.Entlnmniglit 
jit  e  vereame  oihi  wcnt- 
Ibat  vo»  Lby  sllluw 
by  (what  was  If, 

spollM  blehoru.  MjgirL 
that  thou  wei'tuotgfluigl 


Edith.Oh _ 

Fomoniethougbt 


w  Urn  uBOHr  with 


bntUl 


ill 
ly  foce  in  £d- 


The  dead  men  mailo  at  ibeo  to  m'l 

Butthou  didst  back  Ihysclt  acnh  _ 
Pillar,  f  «=- 

AncTstrika  ammie  them  wltb  Uiy  ImUlo 

There,  what  a  dreain 

Sdr.  ^ell,  well— Hdream— HOD 

Bdllh.  JHd  nntHeaven  speak  In 

in  dreams  of  nid  ?  [wbat,  Eire 

Bar.    Ay-well-otold.    I  loll 

Thou  haat  misread  UilB  merry  im 

Taken  the  rifted  plUara  o(  the  i 
For  smooUi  stone  calnniiis  of  the  t 

The  iduulowa  of  a  hundred  fat  ,1'-nil 
For  dead  hibu'b  Bhoeta.    Tnu>,  dm 
hatUe-a™  [di.'lv 

Was  out  of  plani ;  tc  altnuld  have 
Come,  tJion  ahatt  dream 


S?." 


earlt.[phire!^ll..« 
ne  own  ayes-,«nil  these  two  "ii- 
inblea,  thHt  nr ' '-  ' 


The  klBsea  of  all  klml 
Totnmbteatthyteut.' 


HAROLD. 


418 


A  happier  dream.    Sleep,  sleep,  and 

thou  Shalt  see 
My  grayhounds  fleeting  like  a  beam  of 

And  near  my  peregrine  and  her  bells  in 
heaven ;  [heaveirs ; 

And  other  bells  on  earth,  which  yet  are 
Guess  what  they  be. 

Edith,    He  cannot  guess  who  knows. 
Farewell,  my  kbig. 
Har,    Kot  yet,  but  then— mv  queen. 

[Extunt, 

Enter  Aldwyth/wwi  the  thicket 

A  Id.    The  kiss  that  charms  thine  eye- 
lids into  sleep,        [could  love  him 
Will  hold  mine  waking.    Hate  him?  I 
More,  tenfold,  than  tms  fearful  child 

can  do  ; 
Griffyth  I  hated :  why  not  hate  the  foe 
Of  England?   Griffyth  when  I  saw  him 

flee,  [the  blood 

Chased  deer-like  up  his  mountains,  all 
That  should  have  only  pulsed  for  Grif- 
fyth beat  [  love  him , 
I^r  his  pursuer.  I  love  him  or  think  I 
If  he  were  King  of  England,  I  his 

queen, 
I  might  be  sure  of  it.    Nay,  I  do  love 

him. —  [the  king 

She  must  be  cloister'd  somehow,  leist 
Should  yield  his    ward  to   Harold's 

will.    What  harm?  [love.— 

She  hath  but  blood  cnoush  to  live,  not 
When  Harold  goes  and  Tostig,  shall  I 

play  [upon  him  ? 

The  craftier  ToetiK  with  him  ?    fawn 
Chime  in  with  all?    *'0  thou  more 

saint  than  king  !  **  [relics  !  ** 

And  that  were  true  enough .  <*  O  blessed 
"O  Holy  Peter!"    If  he  found  me 

thus, 
Harold  might  hato  me ;  he  is  broad  and 

honest,  [like  Aldwyth  .  .  . 

Breathing  an  easy  gladness  .  .  .  not 
For  which  I  strangely  love  him .  Should 

not  England  [that  port 

liOve  Aldwyth,  if  she  stay  the  feuds 
The  sons  of  Godwin  from  the  sons  of 

Alfgar  [Aldwyth ! 

By  such  a  manyinff  ?    Courage,  noble 
Let  all  thy  people  oless  thee  f 

Our  wild  Tostig, 
Edward  hath  made  him  Earl:  he  would 

be  king : —  [the  bone — 

The  dog  thatsnapt  the  shadow,  dropt 
I  trust  he  may  do  well,  this  Gamel, 

whom 
Inlay  upon,  that  he  may  play  the  note 
Whereat  the  dog  shall  now!  and  run, 

and  Harold  [him. 

Hear  the  king's  music,  all  alone  with 
Pronounced  his  heir  of  England. 
I  see  the  goal  and  half  the  way  to  it.- 
Peace-lover  is  our  Harold  for  the  sake 
Of  England's  wholeness— so— to  shake 

the  North  [division— 

With  earthquake  and  disruption— some 
Then  fling  mine  own  fair  person  in  the 

gap 


A  sacrifice  to  Harold,  a  peaoe-offering» 
A  scape-goat  marriage— 4ill  the  sbis  of 
both  [life 

The  houses  on  mine  head— then  a  fair 
And  bless  the  Queen  of  England. 
Morcar  {fiomlng/rom  the  thicket). 

Art  thou  assured 
By  this,  that  Harold  loves  but  Edith  ? 

Aid.  Morcar ! 

Why  creepst  thou  like  a  timorous  beast 

of  prey 
Out  of  the  bush  by  night? 
Afor,  I  followed  thee. 

Aid.     Follow  my  lead*  and  1  will 

make  thee  earl- 
il/or.    What  lead  then  ? 
AUf,     Tliou  Shalt  flash  it  secretly 
Among  the  good  Northumbrian  folk, 
that  i—  [ently 

That  Harold  loves  me— yea.  and  pres- 
That  I  and  Harold  are  betroth  it— and 
last —  (I  would  not 

Perchance  that  Harold  wrongs  me;  tho' 
That  it  should  come  to  that. 

Afor.  I  will  both  flash 

And  thunder  for  thee. 

Aid.  I  said  ••  secretly : " 

It  is  the  flash  that  murders,  the  poor 

thunder 
Never  harm'd  head. 

Afor.    But  thunder  may  bring  down 
That  which  the  flash  hath  stricken. 
Aid.  Down  with  Tostig ! 

That  flrst  of  all.— And  when  doth  Har- 
old go?  [then  to  Flanders. 
Afor.    To-morrow— flrst  to  Bosham, 
Aid.    Not  to  come  back  till  Tostig 
shall  have  shown  [the  teeth 
And  redden'd  with  his  people's  blood 
That  shall  be  broken  by  us— yea,  and 
thou                          [dream  thyself 
Cbair'd  in  his  place.    Good-night,  and 
Their  chosen  Earl.        [Exit  Aldwyth. 
Afor.             Earl  flrst,  and  after  that 
Who  knows  I  may  not  dream  myself 
their  king  I 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I— 5tf CM Aorc.  Ponthleu.  Night. 
Harold  and  hi$  Men,  wrecked. 

Har.    Friends,  in  that  last  inhospit- 
able plunge  [are  whole ; 
Our  boat  nath  burst  her  ribs ;  but  ours 
I  have  but  bark'd  my  hands. 

Attendant.  I  dug  mhie  into 

My  old  fast  friend  the  shore,  and  cling- 
ing thus  [deep 
Felt  the  remorseless  outdranght  of  the 
Haul  like  a  great  strong  fellow  at  niy 
legs,                                 [that  came 
And  then  I  rose  and  ran.    The  blast 
So  suddenly  hath  fallen  as  suddenly— 
Put  thou  the  comet  and  this  blast  to- 
gether— 
Har.    Put  thou  thyself  and  mothar" 
wit  together. 
Be  not  a  fool ! 


7 


m 


» 


«14 

Ealef  FlaluRBOn  trtth  terchti,  HktoM 
gciHg  Vp  to  trm  ^  tkao,  BoJC- 
Wlched  HU'Will-o'-the  iriip  t 
roltat  tluibotel  doc,i«libtli]-l}lii8 
lighti  [ll.liiL-T 

houliMtbetniy'ii™  oil  ibeso 

llolr.    As,  but  UiDU 

le  WmIi  lietring-iMji 


u*  Into  then.    Flaher- 


IIAROLD. 

ni  not  Eirl  of  Wewat 

III  mine  euldom 
ig  gold  brac«lQt«  on  * 

Anit  leave  them  tor  a  jeor,  nnd  cotiUDi 

'Haf.' 

Bhonid  Iiitlij 


It  I>evil  Ui 


,      iloy.NnyUiou.we  be  liken 

'  Apo»Il«» ;  lluv  *««  Ufllier 

Fattaer  Jeiui  toy*. 

Bnr.    I  had  actor 

■Hallowed  in«. 

Ubs  JoniJi,  llmii  bav 


Uut  tlio  Osh  hsd 
tbere 


■Wlmt'ji  lo  bo  Uii 

I  To  Kit  Men-poMnpurl  vill 
FiiHermm.    UoU,  wtal  llsb  dl 


._...lleBVB. 

Find  tliem  i-_ 

Cub.  Thon  mt  u  i 

111  adiie  own  enrldoni ! 

Were  sucU  ninnlerntisllini 
■■    ■  iglii   Uiem.  Tliej 

Wliigiiii  Uieir  only  iiall  < 

Rhn.  Ay,  bat  my  tn«i 

HoliTtbat  Oii:  Bblpwteckt  arc  BDcunol 

WhatUlii 
■fiir.   ■: 

City.   As,  me  lliy  wont,  but  In  one 

Tlioualialturratornuwom.  H«lelilin 

lieiicel   [T^onrrfhitallnulmti. 

Fly  tbou  ta  wilUuD ;  tell  bim  as  bais 

SCETtF.  It.— BnyeiiT.     Falaee.    Count 


N 
N 


»bym 


e  lifloil 


J I    He'll  Bpnak  for  I 

Hold  Uiine  own,  U  thou  cantt  I 
Enter  Quy,  Count  n/  poiithlou. 
Kar.   Gnj^ 


Jftr.    Thy  vl 


Ugbd  haTB  wteek'iviiV 


Fonthleu  I 

Unit  lilnE 


liave  twalloweJ  11 

'  "ru  down  III  11. 

„_..  „..hUlolluimar. 

laiid  liy  bet  and  gl»e  lier  tby  crabi,  <... , 
_Btlier  un  naaliii  nil  now,  by  the  pa- 
tient BaInU,  iho'a  aa  crabb'il  ai  evr- 

Jtal?    And  I'll  glre  her  ray  e 
ualn,  wben  Uiou  art  down  again. 
TfI<)i,    I  thank Uie«,Bolf.    limil.  . 
to  CnmitOuy ;  belBbanlatliand.  Tell 

hlmwhatlwlheier' —  '"—i  -"■■ 

Lb  will  tea  tlieo  i 


Ik  ill  Hie  ■[. 
.herinBto 
1  IliIiiD  boE 


HtrtElitlind 


Thro'  Edward  ■  f 

in  tho  tolla. 
And  it  were  well 


I  niAjle  lioal  sboulil  li 
art  bin  flisnd:  tbi 
ilaiui  1)11  KKglaud 


._.lho  hnman-hearted- 

tlan-charitlBBt   of  all    .'I'nh- 
Sbace   and   sliare   alike  I 


endlsHUutn  I  wnuklln  ncalm. 
J!ar.  I  have  a  inlnd  Uiat  thou 
^lilL    How?  [caWbiioi 

Jfar.    1  have  a  mlnJ  to  btaln 

with  mine  axe. 
Fiih.     Ay.  do,  do.  and  onr  grost 


e  lilmtelf  aimiiiM  in 
[I  were  ygil> 


Ilalct.  IVhatwouldldo.mylard,!! 
irut.   'What  wouldtt  tbou  ilo  V 
Malit.        My  lord,  he  Is  tby  piM. 
Will.    Nay,  hy  thu  «pleudur  lA  liud, 


Wlilcli  bunted  hi 
Ami  hoUa  of  Uiu 


when  tbal 


ed  hi  h1;h 

_  .  purpiiae,  df»*« 

niB  uuiLL  uii  I^1lltbleu  bcatib J  oner* 
oiir  friend  Guy  Itbo  r»e*. 

But  tlistl  Aept  between  mdfanbttJc  ^ 

Tranrlatlne  Ma  «apllTltT  fi«m  Ony 

To  inlue  owii  liearlh  nl  BajreUI.  WMn 

ho  elta  ray  lanaom'd  \.iUimn. 

Millets  Well,  If  not  wlib  goXa, 

■Willi  gol'—  -*—- "  — -'   ' —  "- -■■■ 


!U  beach  J  "here        h 
Itbo  lack.     M 

sn  andporehaMir  JH 

I'd  (iiliioner.  I 

[  not  wllb  gaXi,      I 
uid  Iran  tuskM  I 


HAROLD, 


416 


!niy  war  with  Brittany  to  a  goodlier 

close 
Tluui  else  had  been,  he  paid  his  ransom 

back.  [not  like  to  league 

Will.    So  that  henceforth  they  are 
With  Harold  against  me, 

Malet.  A  marvel,  how 

He  from  the  liquid  sands  of  Coesnon 
Haled  thy  shore-swallow'd,  armor'd 

Normans  up 
To  fight  for  thee  again  I 

Wul,  Perchance  against 

Their  saver,  save  thou  save  mm  from 

himself.  [asain,  my  lord. 

McUeL  But  I  should  let  him  home 
JVUl.  Simlple  I  let  liy  the  bird  with- 
in the  hand.  (bush  t 
To  catch  the  bird  again  within  tho 
No.  [with  me ; 
Smooth  thou  my  way,  before  he  clauh 
I  want  his  voice  in  £nglaud  for  the 

crown,  frouiid ; 

I  want  thy  voice  with  him  to  bring  him 
And  being  brave  he  must  be  subtly 

cow'd,  [swear 

And  being  truthful  wrought  upon  to 
Vows  that  he  dare  not  break,  Eiiji^land 

our  own  [dear  friend 

Thro*  Harold^s  help,  he  shall  be  my 
As  well   as  thine,  and   thou  thyself 

Shalt  have  [ritory. 

Large  lordship  there  of  lands  and  ter- 

Jmilet.    I  know  thy  purpose ;  he  and 

Wulf  noth  never  [meet 

Have  met,  except  in  public ;  shall  they 
In  private?  I  have  often  talk'd  with 

wulf  noth,  r  these  may  act 

And  stuff'd  the  boy  with  fears  that 
On  Harold  when  they  meet. 

Will,  Then  let  them  meet  t 

Malet,    I  can  but  love  tlds  noble, 

honest,  Harold. 
Will,    Love  him  I  why  not?  thine  is 

a  loving  office,  [man : 

I  have  commissioned  thee  to  save  the 
Help  the  good  ship,  showing  the  sunk- 
en roaK, 
Or  he  is  wreckt  for  ever. 

Enter  William  Ruf  us. 

William  liufas.  Father. 

Will.  Well.  boy. 

Will,  Rt{f,    They  have  taken  away 

the  toy  thou  gavest  me, 
The  Norman  kniuit. 

WUL  Why,  boy? 

Will,  Ruf,  Because  I  broke 

The  horse^s  leg— it  was  mine  own  to 

break; 
I  like  to  have  my  toys,  and  break  them 

too. 
Will.  Well,  thou  shalt  have  another 

Norman  knight ! 
Will,  M^,  And  may  I  break  his  legs  ? 
Will,  Yea,— get  thee  gone ! 

WUl,  R^f.  1*11  ten  them  1  have  had 

my  way  with  thee.  {Ex'U. 

Malet,  I  never  knew  thee  check  thy 

will  for  ought 
Sftfnfor  the  prattling  of  thy  little  onea. 


Will,   Who  shall  be  kings  of  Eng- 
land.   I  am  heir 
Of  England  by  the  promise  of  her  king. 
Malet,  But  there  the  great  Assembnr 
choose  their  king,  [Englano. 

The  choice  of  England  is  the  voice  of 
Will,    I  will  be  king  of  England  by 
the  laws. 
The  choice,  and  voice  of  England. 
Malet,  Can  that  be  ? 

Will,  The  voice  of  any  people  is  the 
sword  [beats  them  down. 

That  guards  them,  or  the  sword  that 
Here  comes  the  would-be  what  I  will 
be  .  .  .  kinglike  ...       [es  break, 
Tbo*  scarce  at  ease  :  for,  save  our  mesh- 
More  kinglike  he  than  like  to  prove  a 
king. 
[Enter  Harold,  musing,  wiih  his  eyes 
on  the  ground,  [me. 

He  sees  me  not— and  yet  he  dreams  of 
Earl,  wilt  thou  fly  my  falcons  this  fair 
day?  [against  the  wind. 

They  are  of  the  best,  stroiig-wing*d 
Har.  [looking  up  suddenly,  havvnq 
caught  but  tfie  last  word.)    Which 
way  does  it  blow  ? 
Will,       Blowing  for  England,  ha  ? 
Not  yet.     Thou  hast  not  learnt  thy 
quarters  here.  [these  towers. 

Tlie  winds  so  cross  and  jostle  among 
Nar.    Count  of  the  Normans,  thou 
hast  ransom'd  us, 
Maintain*d,and  entertained  us  royally! 
Will.    And  thou  for  us  hast  fought 
as  loyally,  [ever  I 

Which  binds  us  friendship-fast  for 

Har.  Good ! 

But  lest  we  turn  the  scale  of  courtesy 
By  too  much  pressure  on  it,  I  would 
fain,  [home  with  us. 

Since  thou  hast  promised  Wulfnoth 
Be  home  again  with  Wulfnoth. 

Will,  Stay— as  yet 

Thou  hast  but  seen  how  Norman  hands 

can  strike. 
But  walk'd  bur  Norman  field,  scarce 

touch'd  or  tasted, 
Tho  splendors  of  our  Court. 

Har.  I  am  in  no  mood ; 

I  should  be  as  the  shadow  of  a  cloud 
Crossing  your  light. 

Will,  Nay,  rest  a  week  or  two. 

And  we  will  fill  thee  full  of  Norman 
sun,  [mists 

And  send  thee  back  among  thine  island 
With  laughter. 
Har.     Count,  I  thank  thee,  but  had 
rather  [Saxon  downs. 

Breathe  the  free  wind  from  off  our 
Tho'  charged  with  all  the  wet  of  all  the 
west.  [thou  Shalt. 

Will.  Why  if  thou  wilt,  so  let  it  be— 
Tliat  were  a  graceless  hospitality 
To  chain  the  free  guest  to  the  ban- 
quet-board ;  [Harfleur, 
To-morrow  we  will  ride  with  thee  to 
And  see  thee  shipt,  and  pray  in  thy 
behalf  [which  crack'd 
For  happlQxYiom«««sd^^«V»i^^SBa!QL^dQ3i^ 


f 


\ 


HAROLD. 


417 


With  free  sea-laugliter-— never— save 
indeed  [mooded  Duke 

Thou    canst    make  yield  this   iron- 
To  let  me  go. 

Har,        Why,  brother.  80  he  will ; 
But  on  conditions.    Canst  thou  ffuess 
at  them.  [corndor, 

Wuff.    Draw  nearer,— I  was  in  the 
I  saw  him  coming  with  his  brother  Odo 
The  Dayeux  bishop,  and  I  hid  myself. 
JJar.    They   did  thee   wrong    who 
made  thee  hostage ;  thou 
Wast  ever  fearful. 

W'uff.    And  he  spoke— I  heard  him— 
**Thi8 Harold  is  not  of  the  royal  blood. 
Can  have  no  right  to  the  crown,"  and 
Odo  said.  [might :  he  is  here, 

<' Thine  is  the  right,  for   thine  the 
And  yonder  is  thy  keep." 
Har.  No,  wulf not h,  no. 

IFtt//.    And  William  lauch'd   and 
swore  that  might  was  rigut. 
Far  as  he  knew  in  this  poor  world  of 
ours—  [with  us, 

«•  Marry,  the  Saints  must  go   along 
And,  brother,  we  will  find  a  way," 

said  he — 
Yea,  yea,  he  would  be  king  of  England. 
JJar.  Never ! 

JFuff.    Yea,  but  thou  must  not  this 
way  answer  him.  [the  truth  ? 

Har.    Is  it  not  better  still  to  speak 
JFulf.    Not  her6,  or  thou  wilt  never 
hence  nor  I :  [goal 

For  in  tlie  racing  toward  this  golden 
He  turns  not  right  or  left,  but  tramples 
flat  [never  heard 

Whatever  thwarts    him;  hast   thou 
His  savagery  at  Alen^on,- the  town 
Hung  out  raw  hides  along  their  walls, 

and  cried 
«*  Work  for  the  tanner." 

Har.  That  had  anger'd  me 

Had  1  been  William. 

Wuff.    Nay,  but  he  had  prisoners, 
He  tore  their  eyes  out,  sliced  their 
hands  away,  [battlements 

And  flung  them  streaming  o'er  tlie 
Upon  the  heads  of  those  who  walk'd 
within—  [own  sake. 

O  speak  him  fair.  Harold,  for  thine 
Har.    Your  Welshman  says,  •<The 
Truth  against  the  World,** 
Much  more  the  truth  against  m3r8elf . 
JFuff.  Thyself? 

But  for  my  sake,  oh  brother  !  oh  !  for 
my  sake ! 
Har.    Poor  Wulfnoth  !   do  they  not 
entreat  thee  well  ?  [dungeon  loom 
Wulf.    I  see  the  blackness  of  my 
Across  their  lamps  of  revel,  and  beyond 
The  merriest  murmurs  of  their  ban- 
quet clank  [wall. 
The  shackles  that  will  bind  me  to  the 
Har.    Too  fearful  still ! 
JVuff.    Oh  no,  no— speak  him  fair  \ 
Cfdl  it  to  temporize  ;  and  not  to  lie , 
Harold,  I  do  not  counsel  thee  to  lie. 
The  man  that  hath  to  foil  a  murderous 
May,  surely,  play  with  words.        [aim 


Har.  Words  are  the  man. 

Not  ev*n  for  thy  sake,  brother,  would  I 
Wulf.  Then  for  thine  Edith  ?  [lie. 
Har-  ITiere  thou  prickst  me  deep. 
Wulf.  And  for  our  Mother  Eng- 
land? 
Har.  Deeper  still. 

Wulf.    And  deeper  still  the  deep- 
down  oubliette,  [day— 
I>own  thirty  feet  below  the  smiling 
In  blackness — dogs'  food  thrown  upon 

thy  head. 
And  over  thee  the  suns  arise  and  set. 
And  the  lark  sings,  the  sweet  stars 
come  and  go,  [their  fields 

And  men   are  at   their   markets,  in 
And  woo  their  loves  and  have  forgot- 
ten thee ;  [grave. 
And  thou  are  upright  in  thy  living 
Where  there  is  fcarely  room  to  shift 
thy  side,  [thee ; 
And  all  thine  England  hath  forgotten 
And  he  our  lazy-pious  Norman  King, 
With  all  his  Normans  round  him  once 
again,  [thee. 
Counts  his  old  beads,  and  hath  forgot- 
Har.    Thou  art  of  my  blood,  and  so 
methinks,  my  boy,              [Peace  I 
Thy  fears  infect  me  beyond  reason. 
Wulf.    And  then  our  fiery  Tostig, 
while  thy  hands  [rise 
Are  palsied  here,  if  his  Northumbnans 
And  hurl  him  from   them.— I   have 
heard  the  Normans         [not  make 
Count  upon  this   confusion— may  he 
A  league  with  William,  so  to  bring 
him  back  ?                [of  the  chance. 
Har.    That  lies  within  the  shadow 
Wtilf.    And  like   a  liver   in   flood 
thro'  a  burst  dnm           [good  King 
Descends  the    ruthless  Norman— our 
Kneels  mumbling  some  old  bone— our 
helpless  folk                [own  blood- 
Are  wash'd   away,  wailing,  in  their 
Har.    Wailing  f  not  warring  ?  Boy, 
thou  hast  forgotten 
That  thou  art  English. 

Wulf.    Then  our  modest  women— 

I  know  the  Norman  license— thine  own 

Edith—  [—William  comes. 

Har.    No  more  I   I  will  not  hear  thee 

Wulf.    I  dare  not  well  be  eeen  in 

talk  witli  thee.  [with  thee. 

Make  thou  not  mention  that  I  spake 

[Moves  away  to  the  back  of  the  stage. 

Enter  William,  Malet,  and  Officer. 

Officer.    Wo  have  the  man  that  rail'd 

against  tliy  birth. 
Wul.    Tear  out  his  tongue. 
Oflcer.  He  shall  not  rail  again  ; 

He  said  that  he  should  see  confusion 

fall 
On  thee  and  on  thine  house. 

Will.  Tear  out  his  eyes. 

And  plunge  him  into  prison. 
Officer.  It  shall  be  done. 

[Exit  Officer. 
Will,    Look  not  amazed,  fair  earl  I 
Better  leave  undone 


■n 


onj^eleii  and 
iJiiiTeslalnllie 


ifill.    And  let  him  go  7    To  aUniier 

UieeBBBliil  [■\as 

T«l  ill  UiIiiB  own  Uiiil  In  thy  fnUici-n 

Hut  bllniled  uy  j'oung  kiiiamnii,  Al- 

Some laliltt WM  Uit fxlier'e  de«d. 

Jlar.  Tb«y  lied. 

Ifill,    But  tbou  and  ]io~Wtiom  nt 
thy  word,  for  thou 
Art  known  a  tpcaliar  of  the  tralli,  I 

From  Uilt  foul  choi^— 

Har.    Nay,  nay,  lie  fw 

By  onth  and  compurgB 

TtiB  king,  the  lordj,  the 


■d  Uniielf 


mil. 


From  Eiiglfliid,  and  this  lanklM  In  us 

Aichblibop  Robert  htrdly  icspedvltb 

life.  [thaAKhblshop! 

JIar.    Arc-hUsliop   Itobert !    llobert 

Itobert  of  JumiGvea,  he  that— 

JWoIrt,  Quiot  1  nntet  [ 

Jlar.    Count  I  If  there  >at  within  thy 


Ya  would  applaud  that  Kormau  »iiu 
should  drive 

Will.  Why.  that  la  reason  1 

WariioF  Ihou  ut,  and  iDifihty   wIes 

wllhnl  I  [lords 

Ay,  ny.  but  many  among  onr  Nonuan 

— liwlng  '  Ihanda— 

To  iiluiige  IheB  into  iKu-long  prlion 

Tet  1  hold  out  acalnst  thom,  ns  I  may. 
Yen— would  hold  out,  yea,  Iho'  they 


/far. 

WlOi  WuUno 

Will. 
We  hear  he  b 


lo  King  Kilwonl. 


Ilnr.    The  AtheUng  ia  neariat  u 

ivm.    Buti!lcliIy,slig].t.h»U.«l 

and  a  child, 
IVI11  England  liaie 
Nnr. 
Will.     And  hath  Klngl 

pronounced  bis  lielr  ? 
Hnr.    NollhBtlknnw. 


„.lt  maybe,  n. 


mil- 


™f!i 


ifouu 


man  of  the  Nonnsiu. 

/fir.  Ko  dW  we. 

Wilt.    A  gentle,  gracious,  pure  and 

Baintly  man  J  [biTn, 

And  grateful  to  tbe  hand  UiBl  ahk'l.lFi] 

Ho  Jirunilsed  that  if  erpr  liu  went  klllc 

lnenglaud,hD  would  ffive  Miklnitly 

-  TolMi  lUil.? 


mv  w.,B  «™.».,«.  .."""i^ 
'{^?  ""  "'"  "       """"  " 

'Who  hath  a  belttrrlalm  then 

So  that  ye  will  not  crown  the  Alhe- 
llng? 
liar.  None  Uiat  I  know  .  .  .  If  IhM 
King  Edwaid'i  will.  Ibuihniig  upsa 
mil.  WIU  thou  uphold  niycl^mr 
Maltl  tatiile  tu  Uftrold),    Be  cantnl 

of  thlna  BTiiwer.  niy  good  (rieiul. 
tftilf.  [OMlde  tn  Harom.  Uhl  liar. 
old,  for  my  ukeaudlnrOiintiianl 
Bar.  Ay  ...  If  the  ktugbavc  UM 
TflTohed  Ills  pronitu. 


Will. 


Will.    But  Hath  he  doni 
Har.  Not  til, 

Will.  Good,  good.  andUi 


I  then? 
U™m. 
I  Wilt  help 


Enelunil, 


will 


ion  loia  thine  EiUili,  ay. 
Ay.if- 
(oaWe  to  Harold).  ThlnD  ■ 

1  B>k  ibee,  wiu  tb 


And  I  win  make  thee  my  gnat  Eail  oil 

Foromeac  in  Bngiand  nnd   In  !io»l 

Thou  ilult'be  lerlly  king— kll  hut  thfV 

For  J  ehall  most  aojonrt  . . , 
And  thou  be  nty  ilcs-kiuit  111 

IFtttr.  (aiiilt  (o  Hantld).  A»,  biotkir  i 
—foe  tliii  aaku  »[  Ki  I  gland-— ay.  ' 

7/or.    My  bird.  Ibo 

iVal<f(cwUe  Id  Harold).    Tiika  r - 
Har,  Aj. 


jiEiiglin 


HAROLD. 


419 


For  thou  art  trathfal,  and  thy  word 

thy  bond.  FHarfleur. 

To-morrow  will  we  ride  with  thee  to 

[Exit  William. 
Malef.    Harold,  I  am  tiiy  friend,  one 

life  with  thee.  [mine, 

And  even  as  I  Hhonld  bless  thee  sayins 
I  thanic  thee  now  for  having  saved 

thyself.  [Exit  Malet. 

ffar.  For  having  lost  myself  to  save 

myself,  [a  lad 

Said  •  ay  *  when  I  meant  *  no,»  lied  like 
That  dreads  the  pendent  scourge,  said 

*  ay  *  for  •  no  M  [oath- 

Ay  !  No  !— he  hath  not  bound  me  by  an 
l8*ay' anoath?  is  *ay'  strong  as  an 

oath? 
Or  is  it  the  same  sin  to  break  my  word 
As  break  mine  oath?    He  calrd  my 

word  my  bond ! 
He  is  a  liar  who  knows  I  am  a  liar, 
And  makes  believe  that  he  believes  my 

word —  [—no. 

The  crime  be  on  his  head— not  boundeu 

Suddenlp  doors  are  flung  ctpen,  discov- 
ering in  an  inner  hall  Count  Wil- 
liam in  his  state  robeSf  seated  upon 
hit  throne^  between  two  Bishops, 
Odo  of  Bayeux  being  one ;  in  the 
centre  of  the  hall  an  ark  covered 
with  cloth  of  gold ;  ancl  on  eUher 
side  of  it  the  Norman  barons. 

Enter  a  Jailor  before  William's  throne. 

Will,  (to  Jailor).    Knave,  hast  thou 

let  thy  prisoner  scape  ? 
Jailor.  Sir  Count, 

He  had  but  one  foot,  he  must  have 
hopt  away,  help'd  him. 

Yea,  some  familiar  spirit  must  have 
Will.   Woo  knave  to  thy  familiar 
and  to  thee ! 
Give  me  thy  keys.  [They  fall  clashing. 
Nay  let  them  lie.  Stand  there  and  wait 
my  will.    [  The  Jailor  stands  aside- 
Will,  (to  Harold.)     Hast  thou  such 

trustless  jailors  in  thy  North  ? 
JIar.    We    have    few    prisoners  in 
mine  ^rldom  there. 
So  less  chance  for  false  Keepers. 

Will.  We  have  heard 

Of  thy  just,  mild  and  equal  govern- 
ance ; 
Honor  to  thee!  thou  art  perfect  in  all 
honor !  [now 

Thy  naked  word  thy  bond !  confirm  it 
Before  our  gathered  Norman  baronage, 
For  they  will  not  believe  thee— as  I 
believe. 
[Descends  from  his  throne  and  stands 
bu  the  ark.  [bond  ! 

X^et  all  men  here  bear  witness  of  our 
[Beckons  to  Harold  who  advances. 
Enter  Malet  behind  him. 
lAy  thou  thy  hand  upon  thlB  golden 

pall  t 
Behold  the  Jewel  of  St.  Pancratius 
Woven  into  the  gold.    Swear  thou  on 
this! 


JIar.    Wliat  should  T  swear?    Why 
^  should  I  swear  on  this  ? 
Will,  (savagely).  Swear  thou  to  help 

me  to  the  crown  of  Fngland. 
ffalet    (whispering  to  Harold).      My 
friend,  thou  haut  gone  too  far  to 
palter  now. 
Wuff  whispering  to  Harold).    Swear 
thou  to-day,  to-morrow  is  thine  own. 
ffar.     I  swear  to  help  thee  to  tho 
crown  of  England  . . . 
According  as  King  Edward  promises. 
Will.    Thou  must  swear  absolutely, 

noble  Earl. 
ffalet  (whispering).    Delay  is  death 

to  thee,  ruin  to  England. 
Wuff.  (whispering).    Swear,  dearest 

brother,  I  beseech  thee,  swear ! 

ffaroUl  (putting  hishandon  the  jewel). 

1  swear  to  help  thee  to  the  crown  of 

England.        [not  doubt  thy  woixl. 

Will.    Thanks,  tmtliful  Earl ;  I  did 

But  that  my  barons  might  believe  thy 

word. 
And  that  the  holy  Saints  of  Normandy, 
When  thou  art  home  in  England,  witli 
thine  own.  [thy  word. 

Might  strengthen  thee  in  keeping  of 
I  made  thee    swear.     Show  him  by 

whom  he  hath  sworn. 

The  two  Bishops  advance  and  raise 

the  cloth  qf  gold.    The  bodies  and 

bones  qf  Saints  are  seen  lying  in  the 

ark. 

The  holy  bones  of  all  the  Canonized 

From  all  the  holiest  shrines  in  Nor- 

ffar»    Horrible  I  [mandy. 

[They  let  the  cloth  find  again. 

Will,        Ay,  for  thou  hast  swoni  an 

oath  [hard  earth  rive 

Which,  if  not  kept,  would  make  the 

To  tho  very  Devil's  horns,  the  bright 

sky  cleave  [hosts 

To  the  very  feet  of  God,  and  send  her 

Of  injured  Saints  to  scatter  sparks  of 

plague  (dash 

Thro*  all  your  cities,  blast  your  infants, 

The  torch  of  war  among  your  standing 

com,  [blootl.— Enough  I 

Dabble  your  hearths   with  your  own 

Thou  wilt  not  break  it !    I,  the  Count 

—the  King—  [est  oath. 

Thy  friend— am  grateful  for  thine  hon- 

Not  coming  fiercely  like  a  conqueror, 

now. 
But  softly  as  a  bridegroom  to  his  own. 
For  I  shall  rule  according  to  your  laws. 
And  make  your  ever-jarring  Earldoms 

move 

To  music  and  in  order— Angle.  Jute, 

Dane,  Saxon,  Norman,  help  to  build  a 

throne  [wind  is  fair 

Out-towering  hers  of   France.... The 

For  England  now To-night  we  will 

be  merry.  [fleur. 

To-morrow  will  I  ride  with  thee  to  Har- 
[Exeunt  William  and  all  the  Norman 
baronst  dc. 

ffar.  To-night  we  will  be  m«rry— and 
[to-morrow— 


T 


1 


WUUsm  Ok  Uuiner'i  bMCatd  '.  VoSId 


Wilh  nollilng  tat  n 


Ing  tat  my  balili 
ir  ^in    brains  •. 

These  (unted  Sormajis— yea 
■u,  aodflQultJiyi 

r  fucH,  '  If  ye 


Claavo 


rWiUiam 

Ide  -wttb 

oi>ie.'    iiuv  uteir  pcrijited 

>  I  Am  I  Harold.  Har^" 
.t  Godnlii?  Lo!  I  tonuU 
at,  [a  Iliu'H— 


My  olil  crook'd  npine  would  bud  out 
Thoq  art  EnglWi,  Kdxud  id 

'•X. 

Stake  done  undi 

Slullls  '  I06t  Uiio'  ili^e.'     Ther 

buUC  Uidr  castle  bera ;  [i 

Our  prtMies  are  Nonnou  :  ILe  Koiuxb 
Hath  bitten  ua  ;  votm  poUou-d ;  our 
1b  dGul-NonDan.  Hcl— ttlearEL-glanl 

IfoMtitiB  10  KlDB  Edward,  •Irrplr- 
Ear  1  would  I  were 

At  holy  and  aa  paeeloiileSB  ai  be  !  [htni 
•*^-  '  -'-'■•  Test  HB  calmly  I  Imik  «' 
,  and  long  down^ilveriag 


HI  tlio  dca 


[I  foUov 


TbyUubanilleeeinltiedarker.  Henee, 
lExmnl. 


...J  b»  .,    --    

Harold,  Archblsliop  SUcaiid,  Gunb, 
'  --'--'-1,  ArdihliUop    Aldisd,  Ald- 


\3':,  9"' 
LBofwi^ 

.    Slee^pg 

'-badeaUi, 

jr  great  Comifll  wait  „ 

le  hither,  1.  have  a  power ;  {fo 


nyth,oH(f  Edith. 
SU«.  Sleet^pg  0 
tblB  be  death. 


liid  England— T,  i 
SooherelhiBllttlokeyalwi 


a  power ;  (M  Harold 

"  "    "^  [J, 

'ell'd  Stignnd, 

ru»  ouaiieaa 

[tree. 


tlhee, 


Attliymtot  need— not  sooner,  [Harold, 
/far  So  I  will. 

Sag.    "Roil  t^old— a  hundred  piuHea — 


tag  MPM 
o'TlI.  .Ij, 


Thatlm 


»m  ntter  craren  [h««t  beTtay'd 
O  AVniruolh,  Wulfnoih,  brother,  liiui. 
KW/.     yorglyeutB,  brother,  I  will 
liveliere  and  die. 

Pane.     My  lord  I  the  Duke  auoita 

liar.    Where  they  cot  dealt   meii'a 

flash,  Biwl  drink  Iholr  blood. 
Page.    My  lord—  [laaoiplccd, 

Har.     I  know  your  Xormon  cookery' 
It  inaaka  all  this.  raealh. 

Pagr.    My  lor.1 !  thou 
Hnr.  Witfi'—"' 


Wh^n  Toatlg  B  aoger'd  eatldom  SunE 

him,  nay, 
HeralnbadcsMnedal!  Korlhui 
To  one  black  aeb,  bat  Uiat  ^3  1 

Siding  with  our  groat  Cot 
Out-inuiJon'd  IiU  I   Holy' 


rfwtn 

II  dl  Hgslni 
ay,  ay.  loi 


TLlnoby  the  Bun  \  nay. tivBoma  aunt 

'When  all  the  world  h^li  Icanit  t 
■poDk  Ihe  truth,  JRat 

And  Ivliig  weio  ^IF-murdu  b*  Ua 

Which  was  the  exroptlon. 
Har.    That  ami  may  Gnd  spf  ed  1 
Slig.  Come,  Uoiolil.  shake  Uie  clogd 

Dili 

ffiir,  CanI,(BilisT'. 

Our  Tostig    patted   vunliig  mo  u»l 

Ensland  ; 
Oar  slater  haves  na  iitr  his  tiuiUlnDCDl : 
He  hath  gone  ^a  kindlo  >«ocwKy  a^ 

Engliud, 
AndWulfuolh  IsalonelnKomu.  ,. 
For  when  1  nde  wltli  'WilUaDi  dtnni  id 

UarflDor,  IfolloK  i ' 

'WutfnothiBHlck.'heBBld  ;<liei:anD»l 
Then  with  tliat  fitondly-dendly  dnilx 

othlt,  nmlelongtr 

- "-- ■olo™hini,lBlhlBi» 

tor  the  lo>alty 


\ 


'Wo  hi 

Bemafn  a  ni „ —  ..,, — , 

CX  Godwin's  house.'  As  fai  ■*  touibM 

Wultnolh,  * 

1  that  eo  priud  plain  wot 


Have  siuii'd  agidnsC  il- 

Byli^'tlietnittu 

or  nil  the  llee  that  orec  mo 
Thine  1b  the  pudonabieit. 


"Nitt 


f<,\^Ubak  1 1 


HAROLD. 


421 


To  think  it  can  be  oihervriso  thanrso. 
Stig,    Tut,  tut,  I  bave  absolved  thee : 
dost  thou  scorn  ine, 
Because  I  had  mv  Canterbury  pallium 
From  one  vrhoni  they  dispoped  ? 
Har.  No,  Stiganci,  no ! 

Stiq.    Is  naked  truth  actable  in  true 
life? 
I  have  heard  a  saying  of  thy  father 

Godwin, 
That,  wereamanof  state  nakedly  true. 
Men  would  but  take  him  for  the  craf- 
tier liar.  [Devil  himself? 
Leof,    Be  men  less  delicate  than  the 
I  thought  that  naked  truth  would 

shame  the  Devil, 
The  Devil  is  so  modest. 
Gurth,  He  never  said  it ! 

Leof.     Be  thou  not  stupid-honest, 
brother  Gurth !  [hold 

Bar,    Better  to  be  a  liar's  dog,  and 
My  master  honest,  than  believe  that 
lyins  [cannot 

And  ruling  men  are  fatal  twins  that 
Bfove  one  without    the  other*     Ed- 
ward wakes ! — 
Dazed — he  hath  seen  a  vision. 

Edw,  The  green  tree  ! 

Then  a  great  Angel  past  along  the 
highest  [once 

Crying  <  the  doom  of  England,*  and  at 
He  st<x>d  beside  me,  in  his  grasp  a  sword 
Of  lightnings,   wherewithal   he  cleft 
the  tree  [it  from  him 

From  off  the  bearing  trunk,  and  liurrd 
Three  fields  awav,  and  then  he  dosh'd 
and  drench'a,  [human  blood. 

He  dyed,  he  soak*d  the  trunk  with 
And  brought  the  suuder'd  tree  a^ain, 
and  set  it  Ttized  in  mood 

Straight  on  the  trunk,  that  thus  bap- 
Grew  ever  high  and  higher,  beyond  my 
seeing,  [me  deep 

And  shot  out  sidelong  boughs  across 
That  dropt  themselves,  and  rooted  in 
far  isles  [rose 

Beyond  my  seeing :  and  the  great  Angel 
And  past  again  along  the  highest  crying 
*  The  doom  of  England!  *— Toetig,  raise 
my  head !         [  Falls  bctck  senseless, 
Har.  (raising  him).  Let  Harold  serve 

for  Tostig ! 
Qtieen.  Harold  served 

Tostig  so  ill,  he  cannot  serve  for  Tos- 
tig! 
Ay,  raise  his  head,  for  thou  has  laid 

it  low ! 
The  sickness  of  our  saintly  king,  for 

whom 
My  prayers  go  up  as  fast  as  my  tears 

fall, 
I  wel  1  believe,  hath  mainly  drawn  itself 
From  lack  of  Tostig— thou  hast  banish'd 
him.  [king  himself ! 

Har,    Nay— but  the  Council,  and  the 
Queen,  Thou  hatest  him,  hatest  him. 
ffar.  (coldly).  Ay— Stigand,  unriddle 
This  vision,  canst  thou  ? 
Stiff,  Dotage ! 

Xaw.  (starting  up).    Itisflnish'd. 


I  have  built  the  Lord  a  house— the 
Lord  hath  dwelt  [house^ 

In  darkness.    I  have  built  the  Lord  a 
Palms,  flowerS;  pomegranates,  coldeu 
cherubim  [wall — 

With  twenty-cubit  wings  from  wall  to 
I  have  built  tlie  Lord  a  house- sing. 
Asaph  !  clash  [et  priest  J 

The  cymbal,  Heman  !  blow  the  trump- 
Fall,  cloud,  and  till  the  house — lo !  my 
Jacnin  and  Boaz !—  [two  pillars, 

[Seeing  Harold  aiul  Gurth, 
Harold,  Gurth,— where  am  I  ? 
Where  is  the  charter  of  our  Westmin- 
ster? [thy  bed. 
StM.    It  lies  beside  tliee,  kinc,  upon 
£(iw.    Sign,  sign  nt  once—take,  ngn 
it,  Stigand,  Aldred !  [and  Leoiwin, 
Sign  it,  my  good  son  Harold,  Gurth, 
Sign  it,  my  queen  ! 
All,    We  have  sigiiM  it 
Edw.                          It  is  finish'd ! 
The  kingliest  Abbey  in  all  Christian 

lands. 
The  lordliest,  loftiest  minster  ever  built 
To  Holy  Peter  in  our  English  isle  ! 
Let  me  be  buried  there,  and  all  our 

kings. 
And  all  our  just  and  wise  and  holy  men 
That  shall  be  born  hereafter.    It  is  fin- 

ish'd! 
Hast  thou  had  absolution  for  thine 
oath?  [To  Harold. 

Bar.    Stigand  hath  given  me  absolu- 
tion for  it.  [enough 
Edtc,     Stigand    is    not    canonical 
To  save  thee  from  the  wrath  of  Norman 
Saints.               [Saints  of  England 
Stig.    Norman  enough !  Be  there  no 
To  help  us  from  their  brethren  yonder? 

Edw.  Prelate, 

The  Saints  are  one,  bat  those  of  Nor- 
man land  [Aldred. 
Are  mightier  than  our  own.    Ask  it  of 

[To  Harold. 

Aldred,    It  shall  be  granted  him, my 

king;  for  he  [mother 

Who  vows  a  vow  to  strangle  his  own 

Is  guiltier  keeping  this,  thui  breaking 

it. 

Edw,    O  friends,  I  shall  not  overlive 

the  day. 

Stig.    Wby  then  the  throne  is  empty. 

Who  inherits? 

For  tho'  we  be  not  bound  by  the  king's 

voice  [voice 

In  making  of  a  king,  yet  the  King's 

Is  mucli  toward  his  making.    Who  In- 

E<lgar  the  Athelbis  ?  [herits  ? 

Edw.  No,  no.  but  Harold. 

I  love  him :  he  hath  served  me :  none 

but  he 
Can  rule  all  England.    Yet  the  curse 

is  on  him 
For  swearing  falsely  by  those  blessed 

bones ; 
He  did  not  mean  to  keep  his  vow. 

Bar.  Not  mean 

To  make  our  England  Norman. 
Edw,  There  spake  Godwiiv 


t 


^ 


ItllkePBler.    Otnyson! 

-      U/  be  biDkeu  tlieii.  nil 

[heaven  ? 

mnonT  tor    lielo    frum 

iowliolovealbee:andB 

ibo,  BO  she  be  serricesbl  e 
ICB,  Bl  mlue  ottu  liuUi 


wliom  I  love  Imjoiid  il 


Spare  luid  foibear  Mm,  Harolil,  If  ho 
And  lei  lilm  pa»  iiiiBiTB.tlied ;  hD  lovea 


When  thou  art  king,  to  »e- 
W(irA"Hy,  dear  lord,  for 


BiliP.  Then  on  theo 
Botold,  ir  rhoa  smbraco 
Edith,  tf  Ihou  abide  IL- 

IThi  King 


Edith^Ii  un< 
'^o'iuithBwoon'JI 
Look  up  Wotfmv"' 


orifice  Uiere  nrnst  be, 

Is  lioly,  andhatb  lalk'd  wltb  God.  ani 

seen  IhMTtn- 

A  Bhndowtng  liorroir ;  tbenareEignaU 

stared.  And  alEna  DO  eulh  I 

Knowest  thou  Senlns  bUI? 

//nr.  1  know  Oil  StUHi ; 

A  ffood  mtrenGhment  for  fr  pvrtloai 

hour  1  f  denl y  !  There  U  w« 

Aldreil.  PiajGwl  that  come  not  ■»!- 

Who  iiauliig  %  tbaC  bill  three  nliLU 

nao^  [irilhll- 

He  ehook  ro  that  ho  scarce  cuuld  out 

Hvard.  heard— 

Bar.  ThQ  wind  in  bis  htlr! 

Alifrfd,  A  chcatly  iton 

Blowing  contlnnally,  anil  falnl  lulllt- 

byniiu,  lofmcn: 

And  cries,  and  claJibes.  nnil  the  gnant 


hill, 


rtbeni 


ladfnl  lights  crept  npfroaoal 

fllri    AtBcnlacf 

Mdrcd.  Benlac. 

Edw.  (mttim\  Seuluc  t  Sannelac, 
The  Lake  of  Blood  1 

Slig.  Thin  lightning  before  dealli 
Flays  on  Lho  woid,~DiHl  K'>r>">'">' 

JTar.    Hnali,  father,  1 


DU  plav  vrltl 
ISoulti 


r  logetliOT,   iboK 

■-e*er-tiniiiiBbli 

a  hlaza  the;  oi 


HAROLD. 


4S8 


t» 


A  sea  of  blood— we  are  drownM  in  blood 

—for  God 
Has  fiird  the  quiver,  and  Death  has 

drawn  the  bow— 
Sanguelac !  Sanguelac !  the  arrow !  the 

arrow!  [D»«». 

Stig,    It  Is  the  arrow  of  death  in  his 

own  heart—  [thee  King. 

And  our  great  Council  wait  to  crown 

8CE^E  II.— /n  the  Garden,    The  King's 

Hou$e  near  London. 
Edith,     Crown'd,  crown*d  and  lost, 

crown'd  King— and  lost  to  me  I 

Singing, 

Two  ff(ning  lovers  in  pointer  weather, 

Xone  1o  guide  them, 
WaWd  at  night  oti  Ihe  misty  heather. 
Night,  as  black  as  a  raven* s  feather  j 
Jkith  were  lost  nwl  found  together. 
None  beside  them. 

That  is  the   burthen  of  tt— lost  and 

found 
Together  in  the  cruel  river  Swale 
A  hundred  years  ago ;  and  there's  an- 

other, 

Lost,  lost,  the  light  qfday. 
To  which  the  lover  answers  lovingly 

**  I  am  beside  thee." 
Lost,  lost,  loe  have  lost  the  wag, 
**  Love,  I  will  guide  thee. 
Whither,  O  whither  ?  into  tlie  river. 
Where  we  two  mag  be  lost  togetlier, 
And  lost  for  ever?  **  Oh.'  never,  oh! 

never, 
Tho*  we  be  lost  and  be  found  together,** 

8ome  think  they  loved  within  tho  t>ale 
forbidden  [11h)  truth 

By  Holy  Cliuroh :  but  wlio  Riiall  say  ? 

Was  lost  in  that  fierce  North,  where 
they  were  lost,  [Tostig  lost 

Where  all  good  things  are  lost,  where 

The  goo<i  hearts  of  his  people.  It  is 
Harold ! 

Enter  Harold. 

Harold  the  King  I 

JJar.       Call  me  not  King,  but  Harold. 
Edith.    Nay,  tliou  art  King  I 
Har.  Thine,  thine,  or  King  or  churl  I 

My  girl,  thou  hast  been  weeping :  turn 
not  thou 

Thy  face  away,  but  rather  let  me  be 

King  of  the  nicMnent  to  thee,  and  com- 
mand [will  maike 

That  kiss  my  due  when  subject,  which 

My  Kingship  kinglicr  to  mo  than  to 
reign 

King  of  the  world  without  it. 
Edith.  Ask  me  not. 

Lest  I  should  yield  it,  and  tho  second 
curse  [only 

Descend  upon  thine  head,  and  thou  be 

Kiiig  of  the  moment  over  lUigland. 
Har.  Edith, 

Tho'  somewhat  less  a  king  to  my  true 
•elf 


Than  ere  they  erown*d  me  one,  for  I 

have  lost 
Somewhat  of  upright  stature  thro'  mine 
oath,  fthou 

Tet  thee  I  would  not  lose,  and  sell  not 
Our  living  passion  for  a  dead  man's 
dream ;  [spake. 

Stigand  believed  he  knew  not  what  he 
Oh  God  t  I  cannot  help  it,  but  at  times 
They  seem  to  me  too  narrow,  all  the 
faiths  [eve 

Of  this  grown  world  of  ours,  whose  baby 
Saw  tliom  sufficient.    Fool  and  wise,  I 
fear  [light  !- 

This  curse,  and  scorn  it.     But  a  littlo 
And  on  it  falls  the  shadow  of  the  priest ; 
Heaven  yield  us  more  t  for  better,  Wo- 
den, all  [Walhalla, 
Our  canceird  warrior-gods,  our  grim 
Eternal  war,  tli.in  that  the  Saints  at 
peace  [be 
Tlie  Holiest  of  our  Holiest  one  should 
This  William's  fellow  Uicksters ;— bet- 
ter die                                       [else 
Than  credit  this,  for  death  is  death,  or 
Lifts  us  beyond  the  lie.  Kiss  me— thou 

art  not 
A  holy  sister  yet.  my  girl,  to  fear 
There  might  be  more  than  brother  In 

my  kiss. 
And  more  than  sister  in  thine  own. 
Edith.  I  dare  not. 

Har.    Scared  by  tlie  church—*  Love 
for  a  whole  life  long ' 
When  was  that  sung  ? 
Edith.    Here  to  the  nightingales. 
JJar.    Their  anthems  of  no  church, 
bow  sweet  they  are !  [cross 

Nor  kingly  priest,  nor  priestly  king  to 
Tlieir  billings  ere  they  nest. 

Edith.  They  are  but  of  spring. 

They  fiy  the    winter  change— not  so 

with  US- 
No  whigs  to  come  and  go. 

Har,  But  wingM  sonls  flying 

Beyond  all  change  and  in  the  eternal 

distance 
To  settle  on  the  Truth. 

Edith.  lliey  are  not  so  true, 

They  change  their  mates. 
Har.        Do  ihey  ?  I  did  not  know  it, 
Edith.    They  say  thou  ait  to  wed  the 

Lady  Aklwyth. 
Har.    They  say,  they  say. 
Edith.  If  this  be  politic. 

And  well  for  thee  and  England— and  for 
Care  not  for  me  who  love  thee,  [her— 
Gurth  (calling).  Harold,  Harold  I 
Har.  The  voice  of  Gurth  !  (Enter 
Gurth.)  Good  even,  my  good  brother  1 
Gurth,  Good  even,  gentle  Edith. 
Edith.  Gooil  even,  Gurth. 

Gurth.      HI  news  bath  come!    Our 
'   hapless  bi-other,  Tostig— 
He,  and  the  giant  King  of  Norway,  Har- 
old 
Hardrada— Scotland,  Ireland,  Iceland, 

Orkney, 
Are  landeil  North  of  Humber,  and  ina 
field 


V 


Elopukt  with  cuiuuie  Uiat  tlio  d^hes 
'Wero  liiidEcd  itnd  damia'd  with  dead, 
lut  fight. 


Tlici  Popii  nail  tlisl  Arcbdeacon  Hllde 
bnuid  [Um  lacl 

Hta  mMLer.  hfiaid  him,  nnd  luive  noa 
A  hnlf  goiinuaii,  and  a  bleaaed  hair 
Of  Fetet,  and  all  France,  all  Dut^iidy 
PoltOM,    nil    ChrlBtoudom    Is    ralBiK 
luniinBt  Ihoo :  [light  tor  tUes 

Hehatb  eurstd  thee, and ifll  tlitaa  wlic 
And  given  th;  realm  oC  Eiiglniid  to  thi 


Edith.   Oil  I  iBDEb  not  I . . .  Gtnuigf 
and  eliaatly  In  Che  gloom        [clouil 
And  Bhnilowlnk  of  tliia  doulile  tliuuilur- 
Thnt  lours  on  England— laughter ! 

Thlg  vaa  old  honiaii  longhtec  in  old 
nome  Iwulvh  ifign'iJ 

a  Pope  KBB  bnni,  when   thai 


reudorljie 
Tha  Good 


;iv  York. 


.'diUcKf^.    . 

Of -Render  nntoCEBsar.' .. 

SliaphcHl  1 
Taka  this,  aud  render  that. 

CurtA.  TliBylmvo  ta 

Sar.    ThA  Lonl  niu!  Ooa  nnu  came 
as  mau— (he  Pope 
Is  man  and  oomes  as  Ood.— York  taken  ? 

Giirtn.  Yea, 

Tostlg  Iiath  taken  York  •. 

liar.  To  York  then.    Edith, 

Ksdat  Ihon  baea  hravEr.  1  had  betlfir 
btaveil  Ithat 

All— but  1  lots  thco  and  thou  me— uid 
ItetnainH  bejuitd  all  chiuicea  and  all 
And  that  thou  knoweet.        Ichurohee, 

EdWi.  At,  l)ut  lako  bnck  thy  ring. 
It  baniB  mv  hand— n  ciUBe  to  thee  and 
I  dan.  iiot  wear  it.  (me. 

l^WdT'i  Uiuold  iht  Ting,  alaah  he 

Uiir.     'Bat  I  dare.    God  nith  thee  1 

iExemt  Harold  niul  OurUi. 

Edilk.    The  King  bath  anrBsd  him, 

il lie  marrr  IDS ;  [or  not 

llie  pope  hath  cureed  1dm.  marry  me 

llpd  help  me  I    1  know  noOung— cflii 

but  pray  [but  prayer. 

Fur  llnrold— praj,  pmy,  pray— no  liel[> 

A  Lireal.b  that  Hcuu  bcyoud  thia  Iruii 

And  touuiios  Illm  thnt  made  it. 


flCEMK  I.  — r«  Sorlhu; 
bishop  AldieiH,  &lai« 


Entrr  Harold.    7"*^  iWradartf  ■ 

SUta^  DraQO^  qf  tVetats  p 
ffSim- 

Bar.    Whal  ]  are  thy  people  l 

from  deleat?  [Uumbor, 

Our  Weuei  drason  Qiea  beyond  It 
No  voioBKtgreBtlt. 

BBliBve  ul  BuUeu— only  Bbaiued  to  tl 

qalek  IbmiBi 

Before  the  king— ai  baring  been  i 

By  Harold,  king  of  K ■—  - 

Uur  silence  ie  our  re 


ICmth  be  gall, 
Mtralaiia  1  trtha 
rith  boiiey,  vbaii 


Cram  me  not  Ihoi 

Meed>  every  iline  to  ure  it. 

roicet.  AldwyUi  1  Aldwrlhl 

liar.    Why  cry  Uiy  people  oii  llj 

Mor.    She  hath  won  upon  our  iiflo[iU 
Anil  pleiuanlneiB  amouc  tllcm. 
Vaiect.  Aldivyih.  Aidwyib  I 

Hot.     They   ahouC   ai    Uicy   would 

Mar.    She  hath  fotloveil  with  oti 

bOBt.anaimlTer'dEdl. 
Bar.    What  nrouldve.  men? 

Voice.  Oar  old  Xortbnnibrlaji  cTOVii, 
And  kings  of  oui  own  tIioo^iie. 


AeainatHardnuw. 

■Who  eouquer'd  whalwi 


Har.  They 

Oar.    Tho  klngdoi 


plotUng  tuL 

Ho»1linsM>'' 


HAROLD, 


425 


To  WulfnoUi,  a  poor  cow-henl. 
Har,  This  old  WuUuoth 

Would  take  me  on  his  kuees  and  tell 

me  tales 
Of  Alfred  and  of  Atbelstan  the  Great 
Who  drove  you  Danes ;  and  yet  ho 
held  tliat  Dane,  [all 

Jute,  Angle,  Saxon,  were  or  should  bo 
One  Knsland,  for  this  cow-herd,  liko 
my  lather,  [the  throne, 

Who  shook  the  Norman  scomidi'els  off 
Uad  ni  hmi  kingly  thoughts— a  king  of 

men, 
Not  made  hut  horn,  like  the  great  king 
A  light  among  the  oxen.  [of  all, 

yoice.  That  is  true  I 

Voice.    Ay,  and  I  love  him  now,  fcr 
mine  own  father         , 
Was  great,  and  cobbled. 

I'otce.       Thou  art  Tostig's  brother, 
Who  wastes  the  land. 

Har.        This  brother  comes  to  save 
Tour  land  from  waste ;  I  saved  it  once 
before,  [hence. 

For  when  your  people  banlsh'aTostig 
And  Kdward  would  have  sent  a  best 
against  you,  [king 

Then  l,who  loved  my  brother,  bade  the 
Who  doted  on  him  sanction  your  de- 
cree 
Of  To8tig*s  banishment,  and  choice  of 

Morcar, 
To  help  the  realm  from  scatterinff . 

Vcice.  King !  thy  brother, 

If  one  may  dare  to  speak  the  truth, 
was  wrong'd,  [againct  him 

Wild  was  ho,  bom  so:  but  the  plots 
Had  maddcn'd  tamer  men. 

Mar.  lliou  art  one  of  those 

Who  brake  into  Lord  Tostig's  treasure- 
house 
And  slew  two  hundred  of  Idi  following, 
And  now,  when  Tostig  hath  come  hack 
with  power, 
Are  frighted  back  to  Tostig. 
Old  Thmie.    Ugh  t  Plots  and  feuds ! 
This  IS  my  ninetieth  birthday.    Can  ye 

not  Alfgar," 

Be  brethren  ?  Godwin  still  at  feud  with 
A  nd  Alf  gar  hates  King  Ilarold.    Plots 

and  feuds ! 
Thifc  is  my  ninetieth  birthday  I 

I  far.  Old  man,  Harold 

Hates  nothing ;  not  hia  fault,  if  our  two 

Be  less  than  brothers.  [houses 

Voices.  Aldwyth,    Harold,  Aid wyth ! 

liar.      Again :       Morcar  I     Edwin  ! 

What  do  they  mean  ? 
Edvoin.  So    tho    good      king  would 
deign  to  lend  an  car   [per^ance — 
Not  overscornful,   wo  might  chance- 
To  guess  their  meaning. 

Mor.     Thine  own  meaning,  Harold. 

To  make  .11  England  one,  to  close  all 

feuds,  [may  rise 

Mixing  our  bloods,  that  thence  a  king 

Half-Godwin  and  half  Alfgar,  one  to 

rule 
All  England  beyond  question,  beyond 
quarrel. 


liar-    Wlio   sow*d  this  fancy  here 

among  the  people  ? 
Mor.    Who  knows  what  sows  itself 
among  the  people  ? 
A  goodly  flower  at  times. 

Har.  The  Queen  of  Wales  ? 

Wliy,  Morcar,  it  is  all  but  duty  in  her 
To  hate  me ;  I  have  heard  she  hates 
me. 
Mor.  No ! 

For  I  can  swear  to  that,  but  cannot 
swear  [Norsemen, 

That  these  will  follow  thee  against  the 
If  thou  deny  them  this. 

Har.  Morcar  and  Edwin, 

When  will  ye  cease  to  plot  against  my 
house  ?  [that  we,  who  know 

Edtoin.  Thekingcan  scarcely  dream 
His  prowess  in  the  mountains  of  the 
West,  [North. 

Should  care  to  plot  against  him  in  the 
Hor.  Who  dares  arraign  us,  king,  of 
such  a  plot?  [now. 

Har.    Ye  heard  one  witness  even 
Hor.  Tlie  craven ! 

There  is  a  faction  risen  again  for  Tos- 
tig. 
SinceTostig  came  with  Norway— fright 
not  love.  [yield, 

Har.  Morcar  nnd  Edwin,  will  ye,  if  1 
Follow  against  the  Norsemen  ? 
Hor.  Snrel;r  surely ! 

Har.    IVIorcar  and  Edwin,  will  ye 
upon  oath, 
Help  us  against  the  Nonnan  ? 

Hoi'.  With  gooil  will ; 

Yea,  take  tho  Sacrament  upon  it,  king. 
Har.    Where  is  thy  sister? 
Hor.  Somewhere  hard  at  hand, 

Call  and  she  comes. 

[Oiieooes  outf  then  enfer  Aldwyth. 
Har.    I  doubt  not  but  thou  knowest 
Whv  thou  art  summon'd. 

Aid.  Why  ?— 1  stay  with  those, 

Lest  thy  fierce  Tostig  spy  mo  out  alone, 
And  flay  me  all  alive. 

Har.  Canst  thou  love  one 

Who  did  discrown  thine  husband,  un- 

queen  thee  ? 
Didst  thou  not  love  thine  husband  ? 
Aid.  Oh  !  my  lord, 

The  nimble,  wild,  red,  wiryj  savage 

king — 
That  was,  my  lord,  a  match  of  policv. 

Har.  Was  it  ? 

I  knew  him  brave ;  he  loved  his  land : 

he  fain 
Had  made  her  great :  his  finger  on  hex 

harp 
(I  heard  him  more  than  once)  had  in  it 
Wales.  [been  his. 

Her  floods,  her  woods,  her  hills :  had  I 
I  had  been  all  Welsh. 

Aid.       Oh^ay— all  Welsh— and  yet 
I  saw  thee  drive  him  up  his  hills— and 
women  [more ; 

Cling  to  the  conqner*d  if  they  love,  the 
If  not,  they  cannot  hate  the  conqueror. 
We  never— oh !  good  Morcar.  speak  for 
His  conqueror  conquer'd  Aldwyth.  Cnv 


hior.    DouU  It  ncrt  tliou  [  Siace  Orif- 

To  L'lwBnl,  eliQ  lialli  tald  It. 

"ar.  Ihad  tsth«r 

woota  bBVB  loTol  lier  buebauil. 
Al.lH-yili,  Aldwyib,  fwborB  1  love  ? 
«l  Uiou  love  Die,   Uiou    knowing 
!>(.   I  csu,  mj  lutd,  loi  mine  Dwii 
Mke,  for  tianv,  [who  UuUan 

EnglBiKl.  liac  UIT  poor  wlilie  doTe, 
WHii  tliee  uid  llie  porcb,  but  iLeu 
would  ItlHl 
•  iiMt  wlUiln  the  ilolBtor,  and  be 


love  »gidn?  (niiswer  love. 
Full  hope  have  I  ttiat  love  will 
™(>.__  ...  .1 .  ilie  great 


lobeltl 
Come,  Aldred.  \a\a 

(Aldred 


Ik«  hdfldt  1]/'  RoidU 


js;.- 

Harold,  Hnroia  and  Aldwylhl 
golden  Dragon, 


The  wiiifi"  Uiat  l>e»tdovrii  'Wnljit ! 


Whcr 


a  night  of  fatal  atata  on 
?  ou  the  Der- 


At  Stsmlord-b 
UorcHT,  collei 

Luit  nieht  King  Edwaiil 

The  riMy  face  and  long  dowu-ulverlng 

Ho  told  me  I  ehonld  conqner  ;— 

I  am  110  woman  to  put  falUi  Id  dreami. 


,— flurth,— 


in^^J 


It  King  EdwD 


Lut 

And  tula  me  we  st 


K 


Harold  and  Uoly  Cross  1 
Aid.  Tbe  da;  ii  won  t 

ScESE  Tl.^A     Piofn.      EfJUn  the 

BiittU  of  Slamlbni-liridoe.    Harold 

and  hit  Guard. 
liar.    Who  IB  it  comes  Ihli  wov  ? 

Toitig  ?  (ffintcr  ToatiB  Kilh  a  tmalt 

force.)    O  hrotlier. 
What  art  thou  doing  here  ? 


""^I'coScfln 


uud  elay  ms 


■g.   I  hate  King  Edward  t< 
I'd  wltb  theo  [me.  I 

re  me  outlaw'd.    Talis  and 
all  eoum  tUes  taa\. 

Take  Uiee,  oc  free  tliea, 

hee  or  ilay  liec,    Norway , 

,e  war  -,  [tor Norvar.  I 

II  would  itriko  with  Toetig.  an  I 
It  noUiIng  In  Uiine  Eiiglwd,  I 
B  for  Aorway  [Ihou  bBrs,  I 


impilliB  Ihj    moiber*! 


B  for 


lolhe 


Northnmbrla   ihrew  ini 
BUB  wlll«nol  have  ilieejlng' 
Thou  hati  mlDused  her  :  and,  Oi-— 

Gamel,BllhineuwiilieHn%.      [of  "^ 
Toilig.  The  «h>w,  fat  1 

He  drawl'd  and  pratnlao,  I  tmtti 

I  knew  uol  what  I  did.         [■udileiil}. 
Har,  Come  Caili  lo  ii». 

Know  wliat  Uiou  doit,aud  wePMi>  Bnd 
for  thoo, 

So  UiOu  lie  vhaaten'd  bj-  Ui;  bniilib- 

Some  eaaler  Earldom. 

rntliii.  ■WhatforNot«-Bi  Ibtnf 


Seeing  bo  la  t 
Tallin. 

O  Harold— 
//nr..Kay,  then  come  Uioubaili  to 
Toitig.  NeTCTiLalliuiyiiiauaaTltl 
-  ihatToatlg         _      __  _  [Swl 


rhou  baat  sold  me  for ,. 

[hou  gaveal  thy  voles  ai^ital  tc 

[  hale  thee,  and  deiplae  ttaee,  anil  iM 

Farewell  for  ever  1  

Jlar.  Ou  lo  Stomfon 

ScKNB  nr.— 41er  the  banu  ySMi 
/orrf-4rirf(e.  iiangiMl.  HitSM  M 
■'-■ — ■■  ""^'1.  teMwin.  M 


Aldwyth.  Qurtb,  1 


iH  1    Haivld  t    AId1i]lllQ 

-irldol         ^ 

iftTOldV  I 

llbe  WteM  I 

^,jei  r  WoeU  I 

daib'd  Into  lb)  I 

Of  Tictory,  and  our  marrtaM  and  ikU 
Been  drunk  together  I  tboa  uiorbaua 
Iman-a  to  hiTc  bd 
>nld  Ihal  *■  ^ 


Spill,  bro: 


1  Ihal  lb«I  » 


HAROLD, 


427 


Har,  There  vxm  a  moment 

When  being  forced  aloof  from  all  my 

guard.  [men 

And  striking  at  Hardrada  and  hia  mad- 
I  had  wish'd  for  any  weapon. 
Aid,  Why  ait  thou  sad  ? 

Har,    I  have  lost  the  boy  who  playM 

at  ball  with  me»  [this 

With  whom  I  fought  another  fight  than 
Of  Stamf  (Mpd-bri<Q;e. 

Aid,  Ay !  ay  !  thy  victories 

Over  our  own  poor  Wales,  when  at  thy 
He  conquered  with  thee.  [side 

Har,  No->the  childish  list 

That  cannot  strike  again. 

Aid.  Thou  art  too  kindly. 

Wliy  didst  thou  let  so  many  Norsemen 

Aence  ?  [pirate  hides 

Thy  fierce  forekingshad  clench'd  their 
To  the  bleak  church  doors,  like  kites 

upon  a  bam.  [thee  why  ? 

nor.  Is  there  so  great  a  need  to  tell 
Aid.  Yea,  am  I  not  thy  wife  ? 
Voicet.  Hail,  Harold,  Aldwyth  I 
Bridegroom  and  bride  ! 
Aid.  Answer  them  I  [7o  Harold.) 
Harold  {To  all).  Earls  and  Thanes  I 
Full  thanks  for  your  fair  greeting  of 

my  bride  I  [the  (uiy, 

£arls,  Thanes,  and  all  our  countrymen! 
Our  day  beside  the  Derwentwlll  not 

shine  [hours 

licss  than  a  star  among  the  goldenest 

Of  Alfred,  or  of  Edward  his  great  son, 

Or  Athelstan,  or  English  Ironside 

-Who fought  with  luiut, or Knut who 

coming  Dane  [king 

Died  Enffush.    Every  man  about  his 
Fought  like  a  king  ;  the  king  like  his 

own  man, 
No  better  ;  one  for  all,  and  all  for  one. 
One  soul  I  and  therefore  have  we  shat- 

ter'd  back  [yet 

The  hngest  wave  from  Norseland  ever 
Sursrnd  on  us,  and   our  battle-axes 

Dfdcen 
The  Raven's  wing,  and  dumb'd  his  car- 
rion croak  [gone— 
From  the  gray  sea  for  ever.    Many  are 
Drink  to  the  dead  who  died  for  us,  the 

living  [happier  lived, 

Who  fought  and  would  have  died,  but 
If  happier  be  to  live  ;  they  both  have 

life  [voice 

In  the  large  mouth  of  England,  till  her 
Die  with  the  world.    Hail--hail ! 
Hot,    May  all  Invaders  perish  like 

Hardrada!  [&u^  Harold. 

All  traitorsfalllike  Tostig  !  [All  drink. 

Aid,  Thy  cup*s  full ! 

Har,   I  law  the  hand  of  Tostig  cover 

it.  [him 

Our  dear,  dead,  traitor-brother,  Tostig, 
Iteverently  we  buried.    Friends,  had  I 

been  here,  [hold 

Without  too  laige  self-lauding  I  must 
The  sequel  had  been  other  than  his 

league 
With  Norway,  and  this  battle*    Peace 

be  with  him! 


He  was  not  of  the  worst.    If  there  be 
those  ,  [me — 

At  banquet  in  this  hall,  and  hearing 
For  there  be  those  I  fear  who  prick'd 
the  lion  [ish  blood 

To  make  him  spring,  that  sight  of  Dan- 
Might  serve  an  end  not  English— peace 
be  with  them  [what 

Likewise,  if  they  can  be  at  peace  with 
God  gave  us  to  divide  us  from  the  wolf  ! 
Ala.  (aside  to  Harold).  Make  not  our 

Morcar  sullen  :  it  is  not  wise. 
Har.    Hail  to  the  living  who  fou^^ht, 

the  dead  who  fell ! 
Voices.    Hail, hail! 
1  Thane.     How    ran    that    answer 
which  King  Harold  gave 
To  his  dead  namesake,  when  he  ask*d 
for  England? 
Leo/,    *  Seven  feet  of  English  earth, 
or  something  more, 
Seeing  he  is  a  slant !  * 

1  Thane.      Then  for  the  bastard 
Six  feet  and  nothing  more  ! 

Leo/,  Ay,  but  belike 

Thou  hast  not  learnt  his  measure. 
1  Thane,  By  St.  Edmund 

I  over-measure  him.  Sound  sleep  to  the 
man  [dawn ! 

Here  by  dead  Norway  without  dream  or 
2.  Thane,    What,  is  he  bragging  still 
that  he  will  come        [\mder  him  ? 
To  thrust  our  Harold*s  throne  from 
My  nurse  would  tell  me  of  a  molehill 
crying  [for  me  !  * 

To  a  mountain '  Stand  aside  and  room 

1  Thane,    Let  him  come!    let  him 
come.  Here's  to  him,  sink  or  swim ! 

{Drinks* 

2  Thane,    God  sink  him  t 

1  Thane,    Cannot  hands  which  had 
the  strength  [shores. 

To  shove  that  stranded  iceberg  efl  our 
And  send  the  shattered  North  again  to 

sea,  [nanburg 

Scuttle  his  cockle-shell  ?  What's  Bru- 
To  Stamford-bridge  ?  a  war-crash,  and 

so  hard,  [Thor— 

So  loud,  that,  by  St.  Dunstan,  old  St. 
By  God,  we  thought  him  dead— but  our 

old  Thor  [and  came 

Heard  his  own  thunder  again,  and  woke 
Among  us  again,  and  ma»:*d  the  sons  of 

those  [the  North : 

Who  made  this  Britain  England,  break 

Marked  how  the  war<ixe  stoang. 
Heard  how  the  war-horn  sang 
Mdrk'd  how  the  spear-head  sprang. 
Heard  how  the  shield^wall  rang. 
Iron  on  iron  clang. 
Anvil  on  hammer  bang — 

2  Thane.  Hammer  on  anvil,  hammer 
on  anvil.    Old  dog. 

Thou  art  drunk,  old  dog  I  [thee ! 

1  Thane.    Too  drunk  to  fight  with 

2  Thaw,    Fight  thou  withtnine  own 
double,  not  with  me. 

Keep  that  for  Norman  William ! 


Down  nith  ■WmiKin 


a  Thane.    Tbewoshein 


At.  but  vhat  laM  gueit, 

uid  pluBtei'd  with  b  bn 

>lcd<in  ouriups? 

nn  Peyeniey,    Mj  lord  11 

leSon 


ueAonnHiijforiJio  vijidliad 

_  ... .    _  felt  It  lu  tliu  lalddle  of  Ibat 

fleicB  flgbt  iJnuded,  £a  7 

At   SUuofoid-brldgQ.     ^llIlBm   hath 

Thane  from  FovflUBey.  [.Ajuled   iLt 

Pevenioy— I  am  from  PevBOBey- 

HalliWBjtiHliilltlif '--■■  —  " — 

Batli  bankd  ndn 


tighli.B  ill 


ile— Gw 


War.    Howottin 


r.         Bringnot  thy  hollowni 

On  pur  foil  feaat.    Fumlueli  feur,' 


iHcded  EnEland  lo  tlie 

[po<4>et  mine 

lo  the  liorveBt  ...  No 

ree  wgettaer  .  .  Many 

[Btupld.li    - 


Sloop  like  their  bwIuo  .  . 


"Dinrtnp  (0  rtfeffcrs.)  The  Co 
England  t  theaa  arQ  drowi 
wanuilt,  [Clielr  I 

nd  CBsnot  see  the  nerM  l>ul 


Harsh  la  the  ueng  I  hard  ia  our  I)on< 

Thy  pnrdoD.     {TiLmma  manil  lo 

aitcadaait.)     Break  the  buiqi 

-ip.  ..  re  four  1     _  Inei 


orop  fnl 


BOBtlB 
vhiel .. 
Harold, 


Haiold,    (iKina;  iii    Aim    itatidina 
Hogh  MueoCtREKank,Quxli\\«Ql.- 


Bnr.    Itafor  my  canu,  niT  enn  t« 
Itoma  !  .  .  .  Tbs  wol(  jalL 

Madded  the  brook,  and  predetermiiud 
Monk,  [.tanfNo' 

Thou  hnet  sidd  thy  «iiy.and  tuul  niy  «m- 
For  all  but  iDBtant  battle.  1  lidr  ua 
more.  _  [—         ■  • 


irtbyp 


[iple  liome,  a 


Ldy  iiandB  of  1 
And  crHVS  Ma  i 
Hall)  given  Uil! 


for  The  Holy  F«- 

[UiB  Nonr— 

I  aek  again  (PitW 

When  had  the  Xjitenn  and  lie  Uslr 
To  do  vilth  Engload'a  utioice  of  Lit 

ownldueV  [drew  to  tlie  EmI 

BOT.    Earl,  tile  first  ChrlttiuiCiHu 

To  leave  the  pope  dominion  in  Iba 

Welt,  [W(M- 

Hb  EBve  Urn  all  the  klTiBdonu  ol  I£a 
Jiar.    Sol— didhoV— &rl— Ihnrei 

mind  to  play  (ihr  tonnU. 

The  Wllllnra  «ith  tbloe  eyeri^  tod 
Kocl-av-tliDU  urtbutsineSMngeTtf 

William^  IwithS«el 

OiT-  Hoolc-Qng,  1  am  the  neaaenni 

of  God,  [TekBl ! 

nis  Konuan  Daniel  I     Mene.  Hen*. 


OuriiBlaiBliai 

And  all  the  Ht 

Uiine— thine. 
Sar.     Sbo   ■  ■ 

Not  kuo^th 

Mot  know  11-— 

cwnpromire?  [JaMli 
And  for  inu  part  ;herelii—Ba 
Tell  bim  the  SaiiiU  arc  aobli 


moved  the  Otmrcb  Oil 

vetiB  and  very  Godi  IhfiT 
"'"      "  proinlwana 

[t  tbey  not  know  In* 

lier»ol(?|iiioiiilBBf 

or  1  bad  power  t* 

rthanbB 

u  itiat  God  Is  nobler  than  ihc 
llUmwa  emiHiarinHlon 
le  the  doom  of  God. 

HfAT  [I  tlm 
ilmforwbich  tbouanfo._    _.. 

Uihe  bnai  I 


—    HghtBlb  „..    ._, „ 

The  Beed  thou  •oiresl  In  thy  fleli]  li  I 

Buraed,  [fleiatacuts*  I' 

The  steer  vbeievlth  Uioii  pluirm  Ha  I 

n.e  fowl  that  fleelh  tft-  "-  --■•  "^  ■ 
And  (liou,  uanrper,  liar— 


HAROLD. 


429 


Amonff  you :  murder,  martyr  me  if  ye 

will —  [silent,  selfless   man 

JJar.    Thanks,  Gurth !    The  simple 

Is  worth  a  world  of  tonguesters.    (7b 

Margot.)    Get  thee  gone  ! 
He  means  the  thing  he  says.    See  him 

out  safe  !  [as  fire  with  curses, 

Leqf,    He  hath  blown  himself  as  red 

An  honest  fool!    Follow  me,  honest 

fool,  [folk, 

But  if  thou  blurt  thy  curse  among  our 

I  know  not— I  may  give  that  egg-bald 

The  tap  that  silences.  [head 

Har,  See  him  out  safe. 

"'  *    lExeunt  Ijeof win  and  Margot. 
Gurth.     Thou  hast  lost  thine  even 

temper,  brother  Harold  I 
J7ar.    Gurth,  when  I  past  by  Wal- 

tham,  my  foundation  [themselves. 
For  men  who  serve  their  neighbor,  not 
I  cast  me  down  prone,  praying :  and. 

when  I  rose,  [lean'd 

They  told  me  that  the  Holy  Rood  had 
And.  bow'd  above  me ;  wnether  that 

which  held  it  [bound 

Had  weakened,  and  the  Hood  itself  were 
To  that  necessity  which  binds  us  down ; 
"Whether  itbow'd  at  all  but  in  their 

fancy ; 
Or  if  it  bow'd,  whether  it  symbol'd  ruin 
Or  glory,  who  shall  tell  ?  but  they  were 
And  somewhat  sadden'd  me.  [sad 

Gurth,  Yet  if  a  fear. 

Or  shadow  of  a  fear,  lest  the  strange 

Saints  [power  to  balk 

By  whom  thou  swarest,  should  have 
Thy  puissance  in  this  fight  with  him, 

who  made  [not  sworn— 

An  d  heard  thee  swear— brother— /have 
If  the  king  fall,  may  not  the  kingdom 

fall?  *       '       ' 
Bui:  if  I  fall,  I  fall,  and  thou  art  king ; 
And,  if  I  win,  I  win,  and  thou  art  king ; 
Draw  thou  to  London,  there  make 

strength  to  breast  [me. 

Whatever  chance,  but  leave  this  day  to 

Zeof,  (entering).    And  waste  the  land 

about  thee  as  thou  goest. 
And  be  thy  hand  as  winter  on  the  field, 
To  leave  the  foe  no  forage. 

Bar,  Noble  Gurth ! 

Best  son  of  Godwin  !  If  I  fall,  I  fall— 
The  doom  of  God !    How  should  the 

people  fight  [thou  mad  ? 

When  the  king  flies  ?  And,  Leof  win,  art 
How  should  the  King  of  England  waste 

the  fields  glance  yet 

Of  England,  his  own  people?— T^o 
Of  the  ^Northumbrian  helmet  on  the 

heath  ?  [the  heath, 

Leof.    No,  but  a  shoal  of  wives  upon 
And  some  one  saw  thy  willy-nilly  nun 
Vying  a  tress  against  our  golden  fern. 
Bar,    Vying  a  tear  wiih  our  cold 

dews,  a  sigh  [her  be  f etch'd. 

With  these  low-moaning  heavens.  Let 
We  have  parted  from  our  wife  without 

reproach,  [tices ; 

Tho'  we  have  dived  thro*  all  her  prac- 
Aad  that  is  well. 


Leof,  I  saw  her  eren  now  .■ 

She  hath  not  left  us. 
Bar,         Nought  of  Moroar  then  ? 
Gurth,    Nor  seen,  nor  heard ;  tiliine^ 
William's  or  his  own 
As  wind  blows,  or  tide  flows  :  beliko 

he  watches, 
If  this  war-storm  in  one  of  its  rough 
rolls  [land. 

Wash  up  that  old  crown  of  Northumber- 
Bar,    I  married  her  for  Morcar— a 
sin  against  [seems. 

The  truUi  of  love.    Evil  for  good,  it 
Is  oft  as  childless  of  the  good  as  evil 
For  evil.  [times 

Zeof.    Good  for  good  hath  borne  at 
A  bastard  false  as  William. 

Bar,  Ay,  if  Wisdom 

Pair'd  not  with  Good.  But  I  am  some- 
what worn,  [God. 
A  snatch  of  sleep  were  like  the  peace  of 
Gurth,  Leof  win,  go  once  more  about  the 
hill-  [lac. 
What  did  the  dead  man  call  it— Sangue- 
The  lake  of  blood? 

Leqf.    A  lake  that  dips  in  William 
As  well  as  Harold. 

Bar.         Like  enough.    I  have  seen 
The  trenches  dug,  the  palisades  up- 
rear'd  [wands ; 

And  wattled  thick  with  ash  and  willow- 
Yea,  wrought  at  them  myself.  Go  rouud 
once  more  ;  [man  horse 

See  all  be  sound  and  whole.  No  Nor- 
Can  shatter  England,  standing  shield 
Tell  that  again  to  all.  [by  shield ; 

Gurth,  I  will,  good  brother. 

Bar,  Our  guardsman  iiath  but  toil'd 
his  hand  and  foot ; 
I  hand,  foot,  heart  and  head.    Some 
wine  I    (One  pours  wine  into  a  gob- 
let f  which  he  hands  to  Harold.) 

Too  much  I 
What?  we  must  use  our  battle-axe  to- 
day, [we  came  in  ? 
Our  guardsmen  have  slept  well,  since 
Le^,    Ay,  slept  and  snored.    Your 
second-sighted  man  [king. 
That  scared  the  dying  conscience  of  the 
Misheard  their  snores  for  groans.  They 
are  up  again  [burg 
And  chanting  that  old  song  of  Brunan- 
Where  England  conquer'd. 

Bar.       That  is  welL    The  Norman, 
What  is  he  doing? 

Leof,  Praying  for  Normandy ; 

Our  scouts  have  heard  uie  tinkle  of  their 
bells.  [for  England  too  I 

Bar,    And  our  old  songs  are  prayers 
But  by  all  Saints— 
Leqf,  Barrikig  the  Norman ! 

Bar.  Nay. 

Were  the  great  trumpet  blowing  dooms* 
day  dawn,  [man  moves-* 

I  needs  must  rest.    Call  when  the  Nor- 
Exeunt  allf  but  Harold. 
No  horse— thousands  of  horses— our 

shield  wall- 
Wall  — break    it    not — break    not — 
break—  ISleeft*^ 


N 


yiilm  rf  JMio,    Son  H«iold,  I  Ihy 
king,  who MunetiHloro  [ford-bridgo 

Becuue  I  loW  Ihee  In  mj  mortal  da;, 

To  lall  Uuse  Uiousluac  die  ou  Atiitau 

KuiEoelBD  t  [Mil— 

VUtanof  Wntf.    OlimtliBr.fmin  iiiv 

gbaiilfy  DublieEto 


(TibHi  ciT  Tottig. 
OObrolhsTlIke  b 

Tbau  pif  Mt  thy  voi 


"'.K 


M  ihea  from  tbe 

(/  A'orman  Sontti.  oT^len 
>W1  Klnabuttoruihonrl 
rami  falHly  b;  our  bleucd 
[heavan  I 


My   b«nie-(Lia   ■eolnat  yoi 


The  king**  iMt  »onV-'  liia  arrow  1  •  I 
1  ale  lor  EngliUHl  Ihsu,  who  lived  for 

England— 
What  nobler?  men  mnst  die. 
I  eannot  fall  liilo  a  laliier  noild— 
I  havs  done  no  man  wrong.    TosUg, 
Anihoiita  angofii?       Ipnor  broQier, 
Fain  had  I  kept  tbloo  earldom  In  thy 

hands  [wrenrh'd 

8i>Ti3  for  iliy  wtld  and  violent  will  tbaC 
AilheartBolfretmenfromUiee.  1  could 

than  this  way  advlae  the  king 


1  left  our  England  nnlted  to  Iho  South 
TomeaKhESlnthoNorth.  TboNotse- 
[of  Godwin 

raklna 

[pool< 

SoDer  a  Bl«rmlon  ihlpnTeGk  in  tho 
or  luUen  alumber,  and  arise  again 
Diajolnted :  only  dream*— whem  mine 
own  Hit  [a  apatk 

TakeapattBgnlnitniTieltl  Why?  For 
Of  Belt^nadain  bnm  in  me  whenl  awiiro 


Will'd  It  t  V  a«(a  :  the  peijotr-moi 

log  Count 
Hath  made  too  good  an  nae  of  Hob 

Church  ,  ' 

To  brwlt  her  close  I    There  tho-  sreii 

Uoil  of  truth  [ingSdU 

nil  all  thine  houia  with  naacB !— A  li- 
Halh  haunled  me— mine  oath— my  wib 

— Ifaiii  [couiJboI' 

Had  mado  my  marriaga  not  a  lie;  I 
Thou  an  my  bride !   ojid  thou  in  iflo: 

yean  [mint 

Praying  percbiuice  fortlilBpaorBoulof 
In  cold,  while    cella  bouealh  an  1» 

Thia  memory  tolIi«e  !— and  llKw 
My  legacy  of  war  agntuet  the  Pooe 
From  child  to  chOd,  from  Pose  to 
Pope,  from  age  to  age.  Ixbortt, 
Till  iha  sea  was%  her  level  wllh  bu 
Or  till  the  Pope  be  Cbriari. 


[Woiaj 
i;ot  yil. 


3^u  didst  Hiuuae  Uie  I 

Thou  liaat  been  talae  I 

falsa  to 


[»ide»-«iij 

aved  Uic 
WlUia 


Paaaliig  tby  love  for  OdlTylli  [  vtiicn- 
■- -  .16"' 


Du. 


That  t  could 


Har.  Af&r  Ibe  battle— aft«V 
AM.    I  go.    (.AHiU:     ■"    ■ 

alab  her  Btfuidlne . 

(EXI  Ald»Tlt>- 
Eiith.  AhiB,  my  lord,  aho  loTcd  lliu. 
Bar.  Never  "  —    " 

EdUli.    I  aav  It  In  her  eyt 


HAROLD. 


4S1 


Thesi^  iu  heaTfin— th3  sudden  blast 
at  sea—  [dark  dreams — 

My  fatal  oath— the  dead  Saints— the 
The  Pope's  Anathema— the  Holy  Rood 
That  bow'd  to  me  at  Waltham— Edith, 

if 
I,  the  last  English  King  of  England— 
Edith,  No, 

First  of  a  line  that  coming  from  the 

people, 
Ana  chosen  by  the  people — 

Har,  And  lighting  for 

And  dying  for  the  people — 
Edith,  Living!  Uving! 

Hot,    Yea  so,  good  cheer  !  thou  art 
Harold,  I  am  Edith! 
Look  not  thus  van  I 

Edith,    What  matters  how  I  look  ? 

Have  we  not  broken  Wales  andNorso- 

land?  slain,  [war. 

Whose  life  was  all  one  battle,  incarnate 

Tlieir  giant-king,  a  mightier  man-in- 

Than  William.  [arms 

Bar,  Ay,  my  girl,  no  tricks  in  him— 

Ko  bastara  he  I  when  all  was  lost,  he 

veird.  [ground, 

Ana  bit  his  shield,  and  dash*d  it  on  the 

And  swaying  his  two-handed  sword 

about  nim.  [upon  us 

Two  deaths  at  erery  swing,  ran  in 

And  died  so,  and  I  loved  him  as  I  hate 

This  liar  who  made  me  liar.    If  Hate 

can  kill.  [axe — 

And  Loathing  wield  a  Saxon  battle- 

Edith.    Waste  not  thy  might  before 

the  battle ! 
Har,  No, 

And  thou  must  hence.    Stigand  will 

see  thee  safe. 
And  so— Farewell. 

{He  i»  aoinfff  btU  turns  hetck. 
The  ring  tnou  darest  not  wear, 
I  have  had  it  f ashion'd,  see,  to  meet 
my  hand. 
[Harold  Bhows  the  ring  which  ia 
an  hi$  finger. 
Farewell ! 

[He  is  goingf  but  turns  bach  again, 
I  am  dead  as  Death  this  day  to  aught 

of  earth's 
Save  William's  death  or  mine. 

Edith,  Thy  death !— to-day  ! 

Is  it  not  thy  birthday  ? 

Har,  Ay,  that  happy  day  I 

A  birthday  welcome  I  happy  days  and 

many  1 
One— this  !  [They  embrace. 

Look,  I  will  bear  thy  blessing  into  the 

battle 
And  front  the  doom  of  God. 
Norman  cries  {heard  in  the  distance). 

Ha  Kou  !  Ha  Rou ! 
Enter  Gurth. 
Ourth,    The  Norman  moves  ! 
Har,  Harold  and  Holy  Cross  ! 

[Exeunt  Harold  and  Gurth. 

Enter  Stigand. 

Btig,  Our  Church  in  arms— the  lamb 
the  lion— not 


Spear  into  pruning-hook— tho  counter 

way- 
Cowl,  helm:  and  crozier,  battle-axe. 
Abbot  Alf  wig,  [boro* 

Leofric,  and  all  the  monks  of  Peter* 
Strike  for  the  king  j  but  I,  old  wretch, 
old  Stigand,  — and  yet 

With  hands  too  limp  to  brandish  iron 
I  liave  a  power — would  Harold  ask  me 
I  have  a  power.  [for  it — 

Edith.        What  power,  holy  father  ? 
Stig,    Power  now  from  Harold  to 
command  thee  hence 
And  see  thee  safe  from  Senlac. 
Edith.  I  remain  I 

titig.    Yea,  so  will  I,  daughter,  until 
1  find  [see  it 

Which  way  the  battle  balance.    I  can 
From  where  wc  stand :  and,  live  or  die, 
I  would  I  were  among  them  ? 
Canons  from  Waltham  {singing  with' 
out). 

Salva  patriam, 
Sancte  Pater, 
Salva  Filit 
Scdva  SpirituSf 
Salva  patriam  f 
Sancta  Mater,* 

Edith,   Are  those  the  blessed  angels 

quirinc,  father  ? 
Sttg,    No,  daughter,  but  the  canons 
out  of  Waltham,  [low'd  him. 

The  king's  foundation,  that  have  fol- 
Edith.    O  God  of  battles,  make  their 
wall  of  shields  [isades  ! 

Firm  as  thy  cliffs,  strengthen  their  pal- 
What  is  that  whirring  sound  ? 
Stia,  The  Norman  arrow ! 

Ealth.  Look  out  upon  the  battle— is 
he  safe  ?        [between  his  baiiners. 
Slig.    The  king  of  England  stands 
He  slitters  on  the  crowning  of  the  hill. 
God  save  king  Harold ! 

Edith,  —chosen  by  his  people 

And  fighting  for  his  people ! 

Stig,  There  is  one 

Come  as  Goliath  came  of  yore — ho 

flings 
His  brand  in  air  and  catches  it  again. 
He  is  chanting  some  old  warsong. 

Edith.  And  no  David 

To  meet  him  ?  [him, 

Stig.    Ay,  there  springs  a  Saxon  on 
Fidls— and  another  falls. 
Edith.  Have  mercy  on  us  ! 

Stig.     Lo  I    our  good  Gurth   hath 

smitten  him  to  the  death. 
Edith.    So  perish  all  the  enemies  of 
Harold ! 

Oanons  {singing}.    ' 

Hostis  in  Angliam 

Ituit  prasdator, 
Jllorum,  Domine, 

SciUum  scinddtur! 
Hostis  per  Angliae 
«.  Plag<w  bacchatur; 

*  The  a  throughout  these  hymns  shoold  fct 


f 


Tr  fngatur 


Blig. 
SttUll 


111™ 


Uu^iU.  Itamino. 

Ay.  Eood  laUier. 
CbxMu  itinffitif). 

Pana  ngtuiUr! 
EiulSiK  cricf.       Harold   tnd   Holy 

Cro-  I    Out  I  out  1 
Slig.  Our  ]■ 

nancr  their  inovf.  All  (he 

.1,  RBcL  a  BtatuH  on  bin  hnne.  uic 


i'nfl.  ortf*.  Hu-nlii  nni 
Jforman  tritt.  Ha.  Bou 
OiiWM  ((inginji). 

ffmtBi  cum  iwrfKe 

rncpiiliatUT' 

Ulitram  in  Ioc™ini 

OMor/lmrfaSlr.' 


Blig.    Look,  dangliter.  look. 

£<AM.    Nay,  fatEer,  look  for  mir .' 

Slip.    Our  MM  llgbleu  with  11  Dingle 

tfimh  fbesdi 

About  the   sniminlt  ol  the  bill,  and 

And  ariDs  are  allvot'd  off  and  ipllii- 

lor'dby  [Jiormsn  liiw. 

Their  ligbtning— and   tbev  fly—lhe 

^<ItM.    Btigaiid,  O  IMher,  hare  wo 

wonUiBiray?    [behind  the  horse— 

Slig,    So,  daughter,  iio^ihey  (all 

Tboirhttno  are  OiiDngiug  to  the  liar- 


^ 


A.    So  porlih  all  liio  e 

Iglaud  r 
1^,  Ho,  no,  bo  hath  ri>e 
ha  bareAiilFi  Ta 


Slig. 


[all  their  horse 

ig — ho  pobitflonw&Td^ 

Swallow  the  hlinocnst-Iike,  awamiiua 

np.  [battle-axe  keen 

A'dirA.    O  God  of  batilH.  mako  bis 

As  tbliia  own  iharp-dlYlding  jnetlco, 

baavy  [ful  hoadd 


'-"^'i. 


w 


Edith,    O  God  ot  battlei,  they  a- 
three  to  one,  [ibom  dowi 

lUaks  thou  ono  man  at  i^iee  to  ts 
catuH*  trinjlnfl). 


Sguui  cum  rnulU 
Tt^leiatnrf 


Fnaxgt  Cnatar. 
sag.    Tea  yea.  for  howl 

Against  Ibe  ahlfling  blaiB  t. 
War-wDodmaii  of  uld  Wudei 


Theliorse 

the  sUeld.  (i 

The  blow  that  brafi 


iblfllng  blaifl  of  Huold'. 

^•ii  ot  uld  Wuden.  hiiw  h 

[ihtr- 

co_p»e  of  faeeBl  There!  An. 


e  mora,  theyfljr,  lhe>'oi 


■^?««»  «"K  tguUe 


leOodnf  initli  hitli 


hoard  my  cry.  ttoUieKi 

Follow  them,  follow  (hom.  tlrtvo  thru 


ui  trick  r 

"no  puTVuer.  bone  ne 


luer.  hone  aniiti 


Thoyl ^_ 

They  mnrder  all  thi 

^dillt.  Hi ^  „ 

Slig.  Hot-beadsd  fools— [o  bum  [b> 

wallofBbleldal  loHhektiiel 

Tbeyhavebroken  (ho  eommandrc-'i 
EMh.  -Ru  oalh  was  broken— 0  boW 
NoriDilnMlmB,  [U-»oi!rt 

Ye  that  are  now  of  heaven.  ai>a  vr 
VouT  Norman  ahitnea,  pardon  11.  par- 
„    don  it  [i„r»l, 

That  he  forawara  hlmwir  (or  all  h* 
Me,  me  and  all  1    Look       " 


Stig.    They  thunder  «eain  nnwi  1) 
My  slelit  IB  eagle,  but  the  atHfe  ' 

This  la  the  hottest  of  11 ;    I 
Eng.cTin.    Out,  oat  1 

atig,  Hal    Qurth  hath  1> 

And  sliiin  Iil™  -  >•- 1>"'>>  •-»• 

EdUh. 
Glory  to  ( 

ialieD .  , 

Stig.   No.iio,bi>hune- 
His  war^lub,  dashes  It  on 

Gnrth, 
Our  iioble  GuttA  Is  down  I 

O  Thou  that  knowen,  let  no 

praror 

Bo  weakened  In  thy  right,  becaute  III 
The  husband  ol  another  I  I 

A'*;;'™''  Halloul    H*Itaii[|l 


i 


1 

^" 

1 

■ 

K@ 

s 

IBBBv^i^i 

^yi 

iw^r^^»^i  iWm 

pP*wS 

R-'^-'^^»ifi^iffiHi 

^^^^^m^ 

1 

L 

J 

^ 


HAROLD. 


433 


No. 


£Sth.  Look  out  npon  the  battle— is 

he  safe  ? 
SHg.  He  stands  between  the  banners 

with  the  dead 
Sopiled  about  him  he  can  hardly  move. 
£dUh  {takes  up  the  war-cry).  ^     Out  I 

out  I 
Jior.  cries.    Ha  Rou ! 
£dith  (crUs  <mt).  Harold  and  Holy 

Cross  I 
Xor.  cries-    Ha  Rou  I    Ha  Rou  ! 
£dith.  What  Is  that  whirring  sound  ? 
Stig.  The  Norman  sends  his  arrows 

up  to  Heaven, 
They  fallen  those  within  the  i)alisade  ! 
£aith.    I.iOok  out  upon  the  hill  —  is 

Harold  there  ? 
Stig.  Sansuelac— Sanguelac — the  ar- 

row — the  arrow !  —away ! 

Scene  U.— Field  qf  the  dead.    Night. 
Aldwyth  and  Edith. 

Aid.    O  Edith,  art  thou  here?     O 
Harold,  Harold  —  [more. 

Our  Harold— we  shall  never  see  him 
Edith.    For  there  was  more  than  sis- 
ter in  my  kiss,         [not  love  them, 
And  so  the  saints  were  wroth.    I  can- 
For  they  are  Norman  saints— and  yet 

I  should— 
Thev  are  so  much  holier  than  their  har- 
lot's son 
With  whom  they   play'd  their  game 

against  the  king ! 
Aid.    The  king  is  slain,  the  kingdom 
overthrown ! 
Edith.    No  matter  t 
Aid.    How  no  matter,  Harold  slain  ? 
—I  cannot  find  his  body.    O  help  me 
thou! 

0  Edith,  if  I  ever  wrought  against  thee. 
Forgive  me  thou,  and  help  me  here  ! 

Ed'Uh.  No  matter! 

Aid.    Not  help  me,  nor  forgive  me  ? 
Edith.  So  tiiou  saidest. 

Aid.    I  say  it  now,  forgive  me  ! 
Edith.  Gross  me  not ! 

1  am  seeking  one  who  wedded  me  in 

secret.  [Ha ! 

Whisper !    God's  angels  only  know  it. 
What  art  thou  doing  here  among  the 

dead?  [naked  yonder. 

They  are  stripping  the    dead  bodies 
And  thou  art  come  to  rob  them  of  their 

rings  I 
Aid.  O  Edith,  Edith,  I  have  lost  both 

crown 
And  husband. 
Edith.  •  So  hare  I.* 

Aid.  I  tell  thee,  girl,  ^ 

I  am  seeking  my  dead  Harold.  ^ 

Edith.  And  1  mine ! 

The  Holy  Father  strangled  him  with  a 

hair 
Of  Peter,  and  his  brother  Tosttg  helpt : 
The  wicked  sister  clapt  her  hu»ds  and 

laugh'd ;  { 

Then  aU  the  dead  fell  on  him. 
'  Aid.  Edith,  Kdlth— 


Edith.    WhAt  was  he  like,  this  hus- 
band?  like  to  thee?  [not. 
Call  not  for  help  from  me.  I  knew  him 
He  lies  not  here  ;  not  close  beside  the 
standard.                         [England. 
Here  fell  the  truest,  manliest  hearts  of 
Go  further  heuce  and  find  him. 
Aid.                          She  is  crazed  ! 
Edith.    That  doth  not  matter  either. 
Lower  the  light. 
He  must  be  here. 

Enter  two  Canons,  Osgod  and  Athel' 
ric,  toith  torches.  They  turn  over 
the  dead  bodies  and  examine  thent 
as  they  pass, 

Osgod.  I  think  thnt  this  is  Thurkill. 

Atnelric.    More  likely  Godric. 

Osgod.       I  am  sure  this  body 
Is  Alfwig,  the  king's  uncle. 

Ath.  So  it  is! 

No,  no— brave  Gurth,  one  gash  from 
brow  to  knee ! 

Osgood.    And  here  is  Leofwin. 

Edith.  And  here  is  He  ! 

Aid.     Harold?     Oh  no— nay,  if  it 
were  —  my  God,  (his  face 

They  have  so  maim'd  and  murder'd  all 
There  is  no  man  can  swear  to  him. 

Edith.  But  one  woman  t 

Look  you,  we  never  mean  to  part  again. 
I  have  found  him,  I  am  happy. 
Was  there  not  some  one  ask'd  me  for 

forgiveness  ? 
T  yield  it  freely,  being  the  true  wife 
Of  this  dead  King,  who  never  bore  re- 
venge. 

Enter  Count  William  and  William 
Malet. 

Will'    Who  be  these  women  ?   And 

what  body  is  this  ? 
Edith.    Harold,  thy  better  I 
Will.  Ay,  and  what  art  thou  ? 

Edith.    His  wife  I 
Malet.  Not  true,  my  girl,  here  is  the 

Queen.       {Pointing  mU  Aldwyth,) 
WUl.  {to  Aldwyth).    Wast  thou  his 

Queen  ? 
Ala.       I  was  the  Queen  of  Wales. 
Will.  Why  then  of  England.  Madam, 

fear  us  not. 

{To  Malet.) 

Knowest  thou  this  other  ? 

Maiet.      When  I  visited  England, 
Some  held  she  was  his  wife  in  secret- 
some —  [mour. 
Well— some  believed  she  was  his  para- 
Edith.    Norman,  thou  liest !  liars  all 
of  you,                            [and  she— 
Toui  Saints  and  all!  Jam  his  wife! 
For  look,  our  marriage  ring  ! 
*,  iShe  draws  it  offthefiiiger  <2/^Harold« 
-      I  lost  it  somehonw- 
Host  it/pjayinff  with  it  when  I 

wild. 
That  bred  the  doUDt !  but  I  am     ______ 

r      now.  .  .  I   am  too  wise  .  .  WAl 
none  among  you  all 


^ 


i 


1  day  vt  St.  Callxtui.  and  Uib  day, 
day.  wheDl  wu  bom, 
talrt.  Aud  Oili  dmd  king'F. 

10,  king  or  not,  haUi  kinglike  IouhIi 

ni»  birOidsT,  too.    It  BwniBlintwBlflr^ 
I  held  It  wlfh  him  In  bla  English  halls. 

HIb  dBF,  with  -"  "■'"  — -'■ ' — ' — 

•  Harold.- 
Before  bg  fell 
■When  all  moQ  . 

WUI.  ~ 

Take  Uiem  m 

MaleC,  I  vow  to  DUJJil  n  cnurcn  to  uoa 
Here  on  tills  Mil  of  battle ;  letDur  high 

altar  [where  tlieHB  Iwo  Ifa. 

Stand  where  their  slnndard  fell  .  ,  ,  . 
Take  them  awny,  1  do  uol  love  to  lee 

tbem.  IMalei ! 

Flucktbedcadw 

ma  on. 
Hon*  Bbali  1  part  tbei 

Jm  and  bis  pat 

HethntwastalBelnoi 


Lettliembel 
meur  toitfltber 
hlome.ltiieeii 
Ifa.  WoiTillni 


AC&r 


O^lhD  door  of  death.  Of  oue  Kff-fiui 

l^lgllBta) 

To  sroip  th«  world  with,  and  «  tec 

stamp  it.  .  . 
Flat.     PralM  iho  SunU.     It  Is  • 


AndlwiUTuloac 


AndnplnniceUlieanntl 
HBhtedntty-thrrar 


'THE  REVENGE.' 

A  BALLAD   OF  THE   FLEET, 

Yon  Hj  Uiom  for  a  moment  to  Ontit  vltli 

But  rvo  niorty'  mm  and  more  Ihi 

lying  rick  astiore. 
1  should  oount  my-inlt  the  oemrd  If  I  left 

Ian  ilogl  and  Uw  dsrlb 


ciSh-HichonSGj 


THE  revenge: 


485 


Xnd  we  laid  them  on  the  ballait  down  be- 
low; 

For  we  brought  them  all  aboard. 

And  they  blest  him  in  their  pain,  that 
they  were  not  left  to  Spain, 

To  the  thumbscrew  and  the  stake,  for  the 
glory  of  the  Lord. 

IT. 

He  had  only  a  hundred  seamen  to  work 

the  ship  and  to  fight. 
And  he  saiPd  away  from  Florea  till  the 

Spaniard  came  in  sight, 
With  his  huge  sea-castles  heaving  upon 

the  weather  bow. 
*  Shall  we  fight  or  shall  we  fly  f 
Ck)od  Sir  Richard,  let  us  know, 
For  to  flight  is  but  to  die ! 
There'U  be  Uttie  of  us  left  by  the  time  this 

sun  be  set.* 
And  Sh:  Richard  said  again :  *  Wo  be  all 

good  English  men. 
Let  us  bang  these  dogs  of  Seville,  the 

children  of  the  devil, 
For  I  never  tnm'd  my  back  upon  Don  or 

devil  yet.* 

T. 

Sir  Richard  spoke  and  he  langh*d,  and  we 

roared  a  hurrah,  and  so 
The  little  *  Revenge*  ran  on  sheer  into 

the  heart  of  the  foe, 
With  her  hundred  fighters  on  deck,  and 

her  ninety  sick  below ; 
For  half  of  their  fleet  to  the  right  and 

half  to  the  left  were  seen. 
And  the  little  '  Revenge  *  ran  on  thro*  the 

long  sea-lane  betweai. 

VI. 

Thousands  of  their  soldiers  look*d  down 

from  their  decks  and  laugh*d. 
Thousands  of  their  seamen  xnade  mock  at 

the  mad  little  craft 
Running  on  and  on,  till  dday*d 
By  their  mountain-like  *  San  Philip*  that, 

of  fifteen  hundred  tons. 
And  up-shadowing  high  above  us  with 

her  yawning  tiers  of  guns. 
Took  the  breath  from  our  sails,  and  we 

«tay*d. 

Tn. 

And  while  now  the  great  *  San  Philip  * 

hung  above  ns  like  a  cloud 
Whence  the  thunderbolt  will  fall 
Long  and  loud. 
Four  galleons  drew  away 
From  the  Spanish  fleet  that  day. 
And  two  upon  the  larboard  and  two  upon 

the  starboard  lay. 
And  the'battle-thunder  broke  from  them 

aU. 

▼m. 

Bnt  anon  the  great  *  San  Philip,*  she  be- 
thought herself  and  went 

Having  that  within  her  womb  that  had 
left  her  ill-oontent ; 


And  the  rest  they  came  aboard  ns,  and 

they  fought  us  hand  to  hand. 
For  a  dozen  times  they  came  with  their 

pikes  and  musqueteers. 
And  a  dozen  time  we  shook  *em  off  as  a 

dog  that  shakes  his  ears 
When  he  leaps  from  the  water  to  the 

land, 

IZ. 

And  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  stars 

came  out  far  over  the  summer  sea, 
But  never  a  moment  ceased  the  fight  of 

the  one  and  the  fifty-three. 
Ship  after  ship,  the  whole  night  long, 

their  high-built  galleons  came. 
Ship  after  ship,  the  whole  night  long,  with 

her  battle-thunder  and  flame ; 
Ship  after  ship,  the  whole  night  long,  drew 

back  with  her  dead  and  her  shame. 
For  some  were  sunk  and  many  were  shat- 

ter'd,  and  so  could  fight  ns  no  more — 
God  of  battles,  was  ever  a  battle  like  this 

in  the  world  before  ? 


z. 

For  he  said,  *  Fight  on !  fight  on !  * 
Tho*  his  vessel  was  all  bnt  a  wreck. 
And  it  chanced  that,  when  baif  of  the 

summer  night  was  gone. 
With  a  grisly  wound  to  be  drest  he  had 

left  the  deck. 
But  a  bullet  struck  him  that  was  dressing 

it  suddenly  dead. 
And  himself  he  was  wounded  again  in  the 

side  and  the  head. 
And  he  said,  '  Fight  on  I  fight  on !  * 


zx. 

And  the  night  went  down,  and  the  sun 

smiled  out  far  over  the  summer  sea. 
And  the  Spanish  fleet  with  broken  sides 

lay  round  us  all  in  a  ring ; 
But  they  dared  not  touch  us  again,  for 

they  fear*d  that  we  still  could  sting. 
So  they  watch*d  what  the  end  would  be. 
And  we  had  not  fought  them  in  vain, 
But  in  perilous  plight  were  we, 
Seeing  forty  of  our  poor  hundred  were 

slain. 
And  half  of  the  rest  of  us  maim*d  for  life 
In  the  crash  of  the  cannonades  and  the 

desperate  strife ; 
And  the  sick  men  down  in  the  h<M  wera 

most  of  them  stark  and  cold, 
And  the  pikes  were  all  broken  or  bent, 

and  the  powder  was  all  of  it  spent ; 
And  the  masts  and  the  rigging  were  lying 

over  the  side ; 
But  Sir  Richard  cried  in  his  English ,. 
*  We  have  fought  such  a  fight  for  %  i 

and  a  night 
As  may  never  be  fooght  again  I 
We  have  won  great  glory,  my  men  I  * 
And  a  day  less  or  more 
At  sea  or  shore. 


■< 


TBB  PmUCKBS  ALICE. 

tfacf  Blared  nt  the  Acad  tbtt  hkd 


m  thv  uhltk  MniUr  GoQIln'— dnk 
o  Iho  tiindi  nf  Qod,  oat  Into  the 


And  thB  BHiiiiet  nM  -Ay,  bj,'  Iml  the 
And  UiD  Lord  tutli  ApfirHl  oiir  Uvea, 

We  itiiitl  ilrn  to  BRht  neiin  Md  to  iitiike 

And  (be  Hon  them  Jiy  dying,  and  ther 
yielded  lo  tliB  (M.  ' 

And  (he  utately  Gpanlub  men  (o  tholr  Hag- 


■ra  rought  tor  Quoen  and  Fnttli  lilie 


ButUieyEUik  hii  bodf  witb  hano^dowD 
And  thET  Duiiin-d  tbe  'Bcnmga' with  a 


DEDICATORY  POEM 


THE   PRINCESS  ALICE. 


H 


KB,  UvlDg  Fover,  U  tbat. 

on— aim  it  the  (atal  Wm, 

lite  ana  love,  divorw  Itiee 

And  Oil.ie  Imperial  laolher  .mile  imin. 

lo™  aad  lUo-lf  what  wo 

Thou— EoBland's  BRBlaiKl-loTlng  daugh- 

ter—Uioii 

Into   Substanco— Iben   pcf- 

Djing  60  Englieb  thou  wooldtt  have  ha 

d   rnunmir  of  tho  jmoplc'a 

Bimie  on  Chf  ooffin— irhcre  it  he  nan  ewear 

nd  Longing  d«Mtbyd«d> 

IIV 

At  th;  rnle  teet  thin  I>iilbu1  of  the  drvd* 

b«;  and  tbl.Ma«>h  mora 

Ot    England,    aud    bu    Iwuwr    lu   IM 

THE  DEFENCE  Off  LUCKNOW. 


487 


THE  DEFENCE  OF  LUCKNOW. 


Sahkeb  of  EtiRland,  not  for  a  reason,  O 
Danner  of  Britain,  hast  thou 

Floated  in  conquering  battle  or  flapt  to  the 
battle-cry ! 

Never  with  mightier  glory  than  when  we 
had  rearM  thee  on  high 

Flying  at  top  of  the  roofs  in  the  ghastly 
siege  of  Lucknow — 

Shot  thro*  the  staff  or  the  halyard,  but 
ever  we  raised  thee  anew, 

And  ever  upon  the  topmost  roof  our  ban- 
ner of  England  blew. 

n. 

Frail  were  the  works  that  defended  the 

hold  that  we  held  with  our  live« — 
Women  and  children  among  us,  God  help 

them,  our  children  and  wives ! 
Hold  it  we  might— -and  for  fifteen  days  or 

for  twenty  at  moRt. 
♦Never  surrender,  I  charge  you,  but  every 

man  die  at  his  post  I  * 
Voice  of  the  dead  whom  we  loved,  our 

Lawrence  the  best  of  the  brave : 
Cold  were  his  brows  when  we  kissM  him — 

we  laid  him  that  night  in  his  grave. 
■Every  man  die  at  his  post!^  and  there 

haird  on  our  houses  and  halls 
Death  from  their  rifle-bullets,  and  death 

from  their  cannon-balls, 
Death  in  our  innermost  chamber,  and 

death  at  our  slight  barricade. 
Death  while  we  stood  with  the  musket,  and 

death  while  we  stoopt  to  the  spade. 
Death  to  the  dying,  and  wounds  to  the 

wounded,  for  often  there  fell 
Striking  the  hospital  wall,  crashing  thro* 

it,  their  nhot  and  their  shell. 
Death— for  their  spies  were  among  ns, 

their  marksmen  were  told  of  our  best, 
So  that  the  brute  bullet  broke  thro*  the 

brain  that  could  think  for  the  rest ; 
Bullets  would  sing  by  our  foreheads,  and 

bullets  would  rain  at  our  feet. — 
Fire  from  ten  thousand  at  once  of  the 

rebels  that  girdled  n»  round — 
Death  at  the  glimpse  of  a  finger  from  over 

the  breadth  of  a  street, 
Death  from  the  heights  of  the  mosque  and 

the  palace,  and  death  in  the  ground  ! 
Mine?  yes,  a  mine  I   Countermine !  down, 

down  I  and  creep  thro*  the  hole  I 
Keep  the  revolver  in  hand  I     You  can 

hear  him — the  murderous  mole. 
Quiet,  ah !  quiet — wait  till  the  point  of 

the  pickaxe  be  thro'  I 
Click  with  the  pick,  coming  nearer  and 

nearer  again  than  before — 
Now  let  it  speak,  and  you  fire,  and  the 

dark  pioneer  Is  no  more ; 
And  ever  upon  the  topmost  roof  our  ban- 
ner of  England  blew. 


ni. 

Ay,  but  the  foe  sprung  his  mine  many 
times,  and  it  chanced  on  a  day 

Soon  as  the  blast  of  that  underground 
thunderclap  echoed  away. 

Dark  thro*  the  smoke  and  the  sulphur  like 
80  many  flendit  in  their  hell — 

Cannon-Hhot,  musket>shot,  volley  on  vol- 
ley, and  yell  upon  yell — 

Fiercely  on  all  the  defences  our  myriad 
enemy  fell. 

What  have  they  done  ?  where  is  it  ?  Out 
yonder.    Guard  the  Redan  ! 

Storm  at  the  Water-gate !  storm  at  the 
Bailey-gate !  storm,  and  it  ran 

Surging  and  swaying  all  round  us,  as 
ooean  on  every  side 

Plunges  and  heaves  at  a  bank  that  is 
daily  drown'd  by  the  tide — 

So  many  thousands  that  if  they  be  bold 
enough,  who  shall  escape  ? 

Kill  or  be  killM,  live  or  die,  they  shall 
know  we  are  soldiers  and  men  ! 

Beady  I  take  aim  at  their  leaders— their 
masses  are  gnpp*d  with  our  grape — 

Backward  they  reel  like  the  wave,  like  the 
wave  flinging  forward  again. 

Flying  and  foil*d  at  the  last  by  the  hand- 
ful they  could  not  subdue ; 

And  ever  upon  the  topmost  roof  our  ban- 
ner  of  England  blew. 

IV. 

Handful  of  men  as  we  were,  we  were  Eng* 

lish  in  heart  and  in  limb. 
Strong  with  the  strength  of  the  race  to 

command,  to  obey,  to  endure. 
Each  of  us  fought  as  if  hope  for  the  garri- 
son hung  but  on  him ; 
Still— could  we  watch  at  all  points?  we 

were  every  day  fewer  and  fewer. 
There  was  a  whisper  among  us,  but  only  a 

whisper  that  past: 
*  Children  and  wives— if  the  tigers  leap 

into  the  fold  unawares — 
Every  man  die  at  his  post — and  the  foe 

may  outlive  us  at  last — 
Better  to  fall  by  the  hands  that  they  love, 

than  to  fall  into  theirs !  * 
Boar  upon  roar  in  a  moment  two  minos  t^ 

the  enemy  sprung 
Clove  into  perilous  chasms  our  walls  and 

our  poor  palisades. 
Rifleman,  true  is  your  heart,  but  be  MVt 

that  your  hand  be  as  true ! 
Sharp  is  the  fire  of  a^^ault,  better  aUsMl 

are  your  flank  fusillades- 
Twice  do  we  hurl  them  to  earth  from  tl» 

ladders  to  which  they  had  rlung. 
Twice  from  the  ditch  where  they  »h4 

wo  drive  them  with  hand-grrenodet; 
And  ever  unon  the  topmost  roof  our 

ner  of  England  blew. 


^^ 


Ttunki  loUuUBdlfiliirk 


TBB  DBFBNCE  OF  LUCKNOW. 

'-  Cholef*.  pourvy.  uid  fi-ior,  thewonnd  Ihai 


Toll  snd  Intffiblc  K^nna.  hluri 
HiTelock  hnfflKi,  m  buiwo,  or  bnlcbfi 
Tliea  d«y  uid  niiflw,  d«r  and  nlrtt, « 
Ing  down  on  the  Btm-stuitHn'a  »»lli 
UHLIdiu  or  mnakeC-buUeU,  and  Uioiuu 


ODOtilB,    ud 

h  gnpsl    It  !■ 


mwbDtaoifhc 


E-rer  Iho   li^nr  of  fifty  Ulat  had  lo 
flonu  by  dvu, 

Bior  till  di;  wilh  iU  traLtarooB  death  frc 


lack  bmkins  Ibelrnf 
h  or"  E^ipo  1*  li 


Ki^ng  tbs  mr-huilen'd  bwUI  n 
HlKhUader  wst  nitlt  iheiT  l«n 

BkTed  bj  Iho  vnfoiir  of  BmelaBk, 

'Holil  It  for  nrtBcn  dsy» ;  •  w*  li«»i 

ittorelBhtj-Kvenl 
And  BTur  Klott  on  thn  palue  rmt  Ux  aU 

bvuur  at  Efigluid  bl«w. 


TBJS  LOVERS  TALE.  48» 


THE  LOVER'S  TALE, 


The  original  preface  to  "The  Lover'g  Tale"  states  that  it  was  composed  in  my 
nineteenth  year.  Two  only  of  the  three  parts  then  written  were  printed,  when,  feei- 
ingr  the  imperfection  of  the  poem,  I  withdrew  it  from  the  press.  One  of  my  friends, 
however,  who,  boy-lilce,  admired  the  boy's  worlc*  distributed  among  our  common  asso- 
ciates of  that  hour  some  copies  of  these  two  parts,  without  my  Icnowledge,  without 
the  omissions  and  amendments  wliich  I  had  in  contemplation,  and  marred  by  the 
many  misprints  of  the  compositor.  Seeing  that  these  two  parts  have  of  late  been 
mercilessly  pirated,  and  that  what  I  had  deemed  scarce  worthy  to  live  is  not  allowed 
to  die,  mav  I  not  be  pardoned  if  I  snfler  the  whole  poem  at  last  to  come  into  the  light, 
accompanied  with  a  reprint  of  tha  wquel,— a  work  of  my  mature  life,—**  The  Qolden 
Supper"? 

May,  1879. 


ABGTTMENT. 

Julian,  whose  oonsln  and  foster  sister,  Camilla,  hna  been  wedded  to  his  friend  and 
rival,  Lionel,  endeavors  to  narrate  the  story  of  his  own  love  for  her,  and  the  strange 
sequeL  He  speaks  (in  Parts  II.  and  III.)  of  having  been  haunted  by  visions  and  the 
sound  of  bells,  tolUnig  for  a  funeral,  and  at  last  ringing  for  a  marriage ;  but  he  breaks 
away,  overcome,  as  he  approaches  the  Event,  and  a  witness  to  it  completes  the  tale. 


Hebx  far  away,  seen  from  the  topmost 

cliff. 
Filling  with  purple  gloom  the  vacancies 
Betwem  the  tufted  hills,  the  sloping  seas 
Hung  in  mid-heaven,  and  half  way  down 

rare  sails. 
White  as  white  clouds,  floated  from  sky  to 

sky. 
Oh !  pleasant  Inreast  of  waters,  quiet  bay. 
Like  to  a  quiet  mind  in  the  loud  world. 
Where  the  chafed  breakers  of  the  outer  sea 
Sank  powerless,  as  anger  falls  aside 
And  withers  on  the  breast  of  peaceful  love ; 
Thou  didst  receive  the  growth  <rf  pines 

that  fledged 
The  hills  that  watched  thee,  as  Love 

watoh^th  Love, 
In  thine  own  essence,  and  delight  thyself 
To  make  it  wlu^y  thine  on  sunny  days. 
Keep  thou  thy  name  of  **  Lover*s  Bay.** 

See,  rirs, 
Sven  now  the  Qoddess  of  the  Fast,  that 

takes 
The  heart,  and  sometimes  touches  but  one 

string 
That  quivers,  and  is  dlent,  and  sometimes 
Sweeps  suddenly  all  its  half-moulder*d 

chords 
To  some  old  melody,  begins  to  play 
That  air  which  i^Msed  her  first.    I  feel 

thy  breath ; 
I  come,  great  Mistress  of  the  ear  and  eye : 
Thy  breath  is  of  the  pine  wood ;  and  tho* 

years 
Have  hollow*d  out  a  deep  and  stormy  strait 
Betwixt  the  native  land  of  Love  and  m^ 
Breathe  bat  a  little  on  me,  and  the  sail 
Will  draw  BM  to  the  rising  of  the  sun, 


The  lucid  chambers  of  the  mcnming  star, 
And  East  of  Life. 

Permit  me,  friend,  I  prithee, 
To  pass  my  hand  across  my  brows,  and 

muse 
On  those  dear  hills,  that  never  more  will 

meet 
The  sight  that  throbs  and  aches  beneath 

mytoucti. 
As  tho*  there  beat  a  heart  in  either  eye ; 
For  when  the  outer  lights  are  darken*d 

thus, 
The  memory*s  virion  hath  a  keener  edge. 
It  grows  upon  me  now — the  semicircle 
Of  dark  blue  waten  and  the  narrow  fringe 
Of  curving  beach — its  wreaths  of  dripping 

green- 
Its  pale  pink  shells->tho  sunmier-hoose 

aloft 
That  opened  on  the  pines  with  doors  of 

glass, 
A  mountain  pest— the  {deasnre-boat  that 

rock'd 
Light  green  with  its  own  shadow,  keel  to 

keel, 
Upon  the  dappled  dimplings  of  the  wave. 
That  blanched  upon  its  side. 

O  Love,  O  Hope  I 
They  come,  they  crowd  upon  me  all  at 

once — 
Moved  from  the  doad  of  nnfoigotten 

things. 
That  sometimes  on  the  horiaon  of  the 

mind 
Lies  folded,   often   sweeps  athwari  !■ 

storm- 
Flash  upon  flash  they  lighten  thrd'  tHh^ 

days 
Of  ^uawy  dawning  and  the  amber  eyss      < 


7 


TBB  LOVESa  TALE. 


Vnim  thm  (n't  I,  Ciimlll*.  thon  nnd  I 
BenoiLtb  a  k>w-brow*d  c«van^  wbcre  tJ 
Pliih'd,  Biipliig  it!  won)  iltM;  ud  i 
The  rtowly  ridBlnK  niUw«  oo  the  rlUTe 


Iheui 


calling  K 


Win  f(u«em  II  whole  life  from  bir 
CkMeh  at  in  Lhlnin  o)bs,  I<4  on  with  light 


Stm  pourUig  Ihco',  Am 
Her  Durow  portali. 


BaE  from  uj 

k  Thine  Image 
ttreiigO, 
TJpon  lh«  wn 
Tba'  In^i  th 


Thine  Image,  like  k  chum  of  light  nod 

Hopa 
S«f  CDimteniinca  with  quick  and  heilthful 


rathe  thyiflf  ■ 
'    He,  that  Hilth 


;ht,  and  fc^hiiflH  cyer  mM-n 


A.  porlkm  ol  ths  plcAAnt  jutonJajr, 
TbRwt  forward  an  to-cUyandobt  of  place; 

A  biidy  jnuinej'lng  onwiird,  aide  with  t^ 

The  gnop  Df  hapeleaifTlef  about  mj  bwl. 


Which  I^B  .go  thejhMl 

WBTlt 

of  Lhe  pnelBin 

•eun'd-ud  lU 

Til 

lighc  Kinl  twii 

•"■" 

d  mbgla  with 

^ir^^rji 

tod 

i<LT 

horn  the  dUmond  tauDDOu  hy  IM 

miiftht  of  that  tn 


Y«  uk  nn  fHadi 


THE  LOVERS  TALE. 


441 


Itf  present  flow,    Te  know  not  what  ye 

Mk. 
How  shonld  the  broad  and  open  flower  tell 
What  sort  of  bod  it  waa,  when,  prest  to- 
gether 
In  its  green  sheath,  cloBe>lapt  in  silken 

folds. 
It  seem'd  to  keep  its  sweetness  to  itself. 
Yet  was  not  the  less  sweet  for  that  it 

seem'd  ? 
For  young  Life  knows  not  when  young 

Life  was  bom. 
But  takes  it  all  for  granted :  neither  Love, 
Warm  in  the  heart,  his  cradle,  can  re- 

member 
Love  in  the  womb,  but  resteth  satisfied. 
Looking  on  her  that  brought  him  to  the 

light: 
Or  as  men  know  not  when  they  fall  asleep 
Into  delicious  dreams,  our  other  life, 
80  know  I  not  when  I  began  to  love. 
This  is  my  sum  of  knowledge— that  my 

love 
Grew  with  myself — say  rather,  was  my 

growth. 
My  inward  sap,  the  hold  I  have  on  earth. 
My  outward   circling  air  wherewith  I 

breathe, 
MThich  yet  upholds  my  life,  and  evermore 
Is  to  me  daily  life  and  daily  death : 
For  how  should  I  have  lived  and  not  have 

loved? 
Can  ye  take  off  the  sweetness  from  the 

flower. 
The  color  and  the  sweetness  from  the  rose, 
And  place  them  by  themselves;  or  set 

apart 
Their  motions  and  their  brightness  from 

the  stars. 
And  then  point  out  the  flower  or  the  star  ? 
Or  build  a  wall  betwixt  my  life  and  love, 
And  tell  me  where  I  am  f  *T  is  even  thus : 
In  that  I  live  I  love ;  because  I  love 
I  live:  whatever  is  fountain  to  the  one 
Is  fountain  to  the  other ;  and  whenever 
Our  God  unknits  the  riddle  of  the  one. 
There  is  no  shade  or  fold  of  mysteiy 
Swathing  the  other. 

Many,  many  years 
(For  they  seem  many  and  my  most  of  life. 
And  well  I  could  have  lingered  in  that 

porch. 
So  unproportion'd  to  the  dwelUng-pIaceX 
In  the  May  dews  of  childhood,  opposite 
The  flush  and  dawn  of  youth,  we  lived  to- 
gether. 
Apart,  alone  together  on  those  hills. 

Before  be  saw  my  day  my  father  died. 
And  he  was  happy  that  he  saw  it  not ; 
But  I  and  the  first  daisy  on  his  grave 
From  the  same  clay  came  into  light  at 

once. 
As  Love  and  I  do  number  equal  years, 
80  she,  my  love,  is  of  an  age  with  me. 
How  like  each  other  was  the  birth  of  each ! 
On  the  same  morning,  almost  the  same 

hour. 
Under  the  selfiame  aspect  of  the  stars 


(O  falsehood  of  all  starorafti),  we  were 

bom. 
How  like  each  other  was  the  birth  of  each  1 
The  sister  of  my  mother — she  that  bore 
Camilla  close  beneath  her  beating  heart, 
Which  to  the  imprison^  spirit  of  the  child. 
With  its  true-touched  pulses  in  the  flow 
And  hourly  visitation  of  the  blood. 
Sent  notes  of  preparation  manifold. 
And  mellowed  echoes  of  the  outer  world— 
My  mother^s  sister,  mother  of  my  love. 
Who  had  a  twofold  claim  upon  my  heart. 
One  twofold  mightier  than  the  other  was,  ^ 
In  giving  so  much  beauty  to  the  world,       |- 
And  so  much  wealth  as  God  had  charged 

her  with — 
Loathing  to  put  it  from  herself  forever. 
Left  her  own  life  with  it ;  and  dying  thus, 
Crown'd  with  her  highest  act  the  placid 

face 
And  breathless  body  of  her  good  deeda 

past. 

80  we  were  bom,  so  orphaned.    She  was 

motherless 
And  I  without  a  father.    So  from  each 
Of  those  two  pillars  which  from  earth  up- 
hold 
Our  childhood,  one  had  fallen  away,  and 

aU 
The  careful  burden  of  our  tender  years 
Trembled  upon  the  other.    He  that  gave 
Her  life,  to  me  delightedly  fulfilled 
All  loving-kindnesses,  all  offices 
Of  watchful  care  and  trembling  tender* 

ness. 
He  waked  for  both :  he  prayed  for  both: 

he  slept 
Dreaming  of  both :  nor  was  his  love  the 

less 
Because  it  was  divided,  and  shot  forth 
Boughs  on  each  side,  laden  with  whol^ 

some  shade, 
Wherein  we  nested  sleeping  or  awake. 
And  sang  aloud  the  matin-song  of  life. 

She  was  my  foster-sister :  on  one  arm 
The  flaxen  ringlets  of  our  infancies 
Wander'd,  the  while  we  rested:  one  soft 

lap 
Pillow*d  ns  both :  a  common  light  of  eyes 
Was  on  us  as  we  lay :  our  baby  lips. 
Kissing  one  bosom,  ever  drew  from  thenoo 
The  stream  of  life,  one  stream,  one  life, 

one  blood, 
One  sustenance,  which,  still  as  thought 

grew  large. 
Still  larger  moulding  all  the  house  of 

thought. 
Made  all  our  tastes  and  fancies  Uke,  per- 
haps— 
All— all  but  one;  and  strange  to  me,  and 

Sweet  thro*  strange  years  to  know  that 

whatsoever 
Our  general  mother  meant  for  me  alone, 
Our  mutual  mother  dealt  to  both  of  uss 
So  what  was  earliest  mine  in  earliest  lil% 
I  shared  with  her  in  whom  myself  •»* 

mains. 


T 


37M  LOVERS  TALE. 


They  MU  me.  w"  ■  *"T  mlrmole 
Of  leUovr-fMUogmdcommonion. 

Wb  ctial  when  we  were  pwMd ;  i 


n  the  (frty  cuckoo  torn  bit  i 

Up, 

Drc&mlDff  togetber  (drqamlns 

O'he;  ihoald  have  ulded),  t[U  tli< 
light 

Valline.  aiunl'd  our  i^yoUdv  ini 

Lt  IbDught  of  which  my^bolc 

md  lAlbU,  sod  hath  ua  pulse, 


oui  DianilDg.  nrb  ■        ^H 


So  lHthl^d  we  wi 
I  jret 

Beton  or  alter  b 


O  bhwDiD^d  portal  cf 


THE  LOVER'S  TALE. 


443 


I  gathered  the  wild  herbs,  and  for  her 

brows 
And  mine  made  garlands  of  the  selfsame 

flower. 
Which  she  toolc  smiling,  and  with  my  work 

thus 
Crown'd  her  clear  forehead.   Once  or  twice 

she  told  me 
(For  I  remember  all  things)  to  let  grow 
The  flowers  that  nm  poison  in  their  veins. 
She  said,  "  The  evil  flourish  in  the  world," 
Then  playfully  she  gave  herself  the  lie — 
**  Nothing  in  nature  is  unbeautif  ul ; 
So,  brother,  pluck,  and  spare  not."   Bo  I 

wove 
Ev'n  the  dull-blooded  poppy-stem,  *'  whose 

flower, 
Hued  with  the  scarlet  of  a  fierce  sunrise. 
Like  to  the  wild  youth  of  an  evil  prince. 
Is  without  sweetness,  but  who  crowns  him- 
self 
Above  the  secret  poisons  of  his  heart 
In  his  old  age."    A  graceful  thought  of 

hers 
Grav'n  on  my  fancy  !    And  oh,  how  like 

a  nymph, 
A  stately  mountain  nymph,  she  lookM! 

how  native 
Unto  the  hills  she  trod  on !   While  I  g^zed, 
My  coronal  slowly  disentwincd  itself 
And  fell  between  us  both ;  tho*  while  I 

gazed 
My  spirit  leaped  as  with  those  thrills  of 

bliss 
That  strike  across  the  soul  in  prayer,  and 

show  us 
That  we  are  surely  heard.    Methought  a 

light 
Burst  from  the  garland  I  had  wov^n,  and 

stood 
A  solid  glory  on  her  bright  black  hair : 
A  Light  methought  broke  from  her  dark, 

dark  eyes. 
And  shot  itself  into  the  singing  winds ; 
A  mystic  light  flash'd  ev'n'from  her  white 

robe 
As  from  a  glass  in  the  sun,  and  fell  about 
My  footsteps  on  the  mountains. 

Last  wo  came 
To  what  onr  })eople  call  * '  The  Hill  of  Woe." 
A  bridge  is  there,  that,  looked  at  from  be- 
neath. 
Seems  but  a  cobweb  filament  to  link 
The  yawning  of  an   earthquake-cloven 

chasm. 
And  thence  one  night,  when  all  the  winds 

were  loud, 
A  woful  man  (for  so  the  story  went) 
Had  thrust  his  wife  and  child  and  dash'd 

himself 
Into  the  dizzy  depth  below.    Below, 
Fierce  in  the  strength  of  far  descent,  a 

stream 
Flies  with  a  shattered  foam  along  the 

chasm. 

The  path  was  iierilons,  loosely  strewn 
with  crags : 
We  monnted  slowly;  yet  to  both  there 
came 


The  joy  of  life  in  steepness  overcome. 
And  victories  of  ascent,  and  looking  down 
On  all  that  had  looked  down  on  us ;  and 

joy 
In  breathing  nearer  heaven ;  and  joy  to 

mo, 
High  over  all  the  azure-circled  earth. 
To  breathe  with  her  as  if  in  heaven  itself ; 
And  more  than  joy  that  I  to  her  became 
Her  guardian  and  her  angel,  raising  her 
Still  higher,  past  all  peril,  until  she  saw 
Beneath  her  feet  the  region  far  away. 
Beyond    the   nearest   mountain's   bosky 

brows. 
Burst  into  open  prospect— heath  and  hill. 
And  hollow  lined  and  wooded  to  the  lips. 
And  steep-down  walls   of   battlemented 

rock 
Gilded  with  broom,  or  shatter'd  into  spires. 
And  glory  of  broail  waters  interfused. 
Whence  rose  as  it  were  breath  and  steam 

of  gold. 
And  over  all  the  great  wood  rioting 
And  climbing,  streak'd  or  starred  at  Inter- 
vals 
With  falling  brook  or  blossom'd  bush— 

and  last. 
Framing  the  mighty  landscape  to  the  west, 
A  purple  range  of  mountain-cones,  be- 
tween 
Whose   interspaces    gush'd   in   blinding 

bursts 
The  incorporate  blaze  of  sun  and  sea. 

At  length 
Descending  from  the  point  and  standing 

both. 
There  on  the  tremulous  bridge,  that  from 

beneath 
Had  seemed  a  gossamer  filament  up  in  air. 
We  paused  amid  the  splendor.    All  the 

west 
And  e'en  nnto  the  middle  south  was  ribb'd 
And  barr'd  with  bloom  on  bloom.    The 

snn  below, 
Held  for  a  space  *twixt  doud  and  wave, 

shower'd  down 
Rays  of  a  mighty  circle,  weaving  over 
That  various  wilderness  a  tissue  of  light 
Unparallel'd.  On  the  other  side,  the  moon. 
Half  melted  into  thin  blue  air,  stood  still. 
And  |)ale  and  fibrous  as  a  withered  leaf. 
Nor  yet  endured  in  presence  of  His  eyes 
To  indue  his  lustro ;  most  unlover-like. 
Since  in  his  absence  full  of  light  and  joy. 
And  giving  light  to  others.  But  this  most. 
Next  to  her  presence  whom  I  loved  so  well. 
Spoke  loudly  even  into  my  inmost  heart 
a!s  to  my  outward   hearing:  the.  loud 

stream. 
Forth  issuing  from  his  portals  in  the  crag 
(A  visible  link  unto  the  home  of  my  heart). 
Ran  amber  toward  the  west,  and  nigh  the 

sea 
Farting  my  own  loved  mountains  was  xe- 

ceived. 
Shorn  of  its  strength,  into  the  sympatlnr 
Of  that  small  bay,  which  out  to  open  mdn 
Glowed  intermingling  close  beneath  Am 

sun. 
Spirit  of  Love  I  that  UtU«  IvQvsx'T^^akVy^iimik 


f 


THE  LOVMieS  TALK 

c  hoiiMd  mthla  the  timit  dI  ih 


^,wi>-'<-»i^i"i^^ 

tliglit  w>  i^nnd  UeDvcn,  sad  the  mil 

Wo  inrn-rl:  oiir  eyca  mm:  liots  werB 

Binh  ot  Time 

lirlBhl.  And  niiiiD 

m^nthe  the  lullDo.li  ot  Eternity. 

IVrre  aim  wilh  Umling  tan,  Uiatstiot  tho 

In  l"ht"ir«i  reuaa  me;  mid  my  niuno 

d=jl 

0  GemUB  ol  that  hour  whleh  <](«  BpHuM 

A  etnlred,  BlQrjr-dnrlcd  mainory, 

Thy  ctPTonal  ol  Bloiy  Hire  a  God, 

Antt  n  pteaXm  Iramirt.  Umoklnit  not 

Amid  Lhy  mela4icboly  mitea  lar-Kra, 

Eii'hiingc  or  iniTcnQ)' :  snd  In  tbU  tunr 

Whowslk  belo™  [h«.  ever  lurDln^  nonJ 

Wiih  dwelling  on  iho  llablYDd  ^|Hh  iK 

shutter  It. 

Hope. 

HKd  I  dieil  then.  I  had  not  fwm'd  M  die. 

□ccnuie  it  liL-k'il  tlia  power  at  iwrfecC 

Eor  bliEi  sUod  conna  me  like  the  llsht  ol 

Hope: 

Heaven- 

Dnn  nbluh  woa  mam  mid  hlgbec  Ihnu  uU 
BBfl^Bll  other  Hopo  l«d  IQWOT  >Lm ; 

Had  1  died  then,  I  hml  not  knom  IM 

Tea  bad   the  Power  from  whccs  dgU 

hnod  the  light 

Up. 

or  Life  imietb,  uid  from  n-hon  lett  hand 

Did  lond  imnh  bcuUc  uKcinuts,  this  one 

The  Slifliioir  of  Death,  pcrennlnl  eflln- 

Id  Bxno  DbKsro   hrmfKr,  miiiht  ia- 

encen. 

wrekthe 

WheTEOf  to  an  that  draw  the  aiuilesiiTna 

iHow  lovelier,  nobler  then !)  her  llfn.  her 

love. 

With  mi  life,  love,  loul,  spirit,  and  hart 

■tid.tn,Dgth. 

TheS'hart'he  .temn.-d  my  day  »Uh  nleht. 

and  dUven 

■'  EtDtlier."  >ha  KiUl, "  kt  Ihli  be  tallM 

Uy  current  la  (he  fountain  wfaciHn  H 

hencefurth 

The  Hill  of  HojK,;-  snd  I  repHed,  "0 

Bitter. 

On  me.  melhlnk^  that  ghock  uE  fflom 

Hj  irill  iB  ono  wllh  thine;  the  Hin  ot 

Hope." 

Unfell.  aiul  In  thl>  gior  I  h«l  nierc«l 

NovcrUiiaoffl,  WD  dill  not  chalice  thonnniE. 

I  did  not  .pai ;  I  conld  n«  spcik  my 

death. 

And  dlpplna  hii  head  !o*  benutb  aw 

Lo-D^ltelh  deep:  Love  d«eii>  not  In  llp- 
depthiL 

Yet  t)€a  ring  round  aiAnthim  iila  own  day. 

BteppMh  frmi.  Honven  to  Muaveih  from 

light  to  light. 

AbsorhlneilltliDlncensDofiiMeetthauKhlii 

7 HE  L0VEW8  TALE, 


445 


Rnnning  far  on  within  its  inmost  halls. 
The  home  of  darkness;  but  the  cavern- 
mouth. 
Half  overtrailed  with  a  wanton  weed, 
Gives  birth  to  a  brawling    brook,  that 

passing  lightly 
Adown  a  natural  stair  of  tangled  roots. 
Is  presently  received  in  a  swe^t  grave 
Of  eglantines,  a  place  of  burial 
Far  lovelier  than  its  cradle ;  for  unseen, 
But  taken  with  the  sweetness  of  the  place, 
It  makes  a  constant  bubbling  melody 
That  drowns  the  nearer  echoes.    Lower 

down 
Spreads  out  a  little  lake,  that,  flooding, 

leaves 
Low  banks  of  yellow  sand ;  and  from  the 

woods 
That  belt  it  rise  three  dark, tall  cypresses, — 
Three  cypresses,  symbols  of  mortal  woe, 
That  men  plant  over  graves. 

Hither  we  came. 
And  sitting  down  upon  the  golden  moss. 
Held  converse  sweet  and  low— low  con- 
verse sweet. 
In  which  our  voices  bore  least  part    The 

wind 
Told  a  love  tale  be<(ide  us,  how  he  woo*d 
The  waters,  and  the  waters   answering 

lisp'd 
To  kisses  of  the  wind,  that,  sick  with  love, 
Fainted  at  intervals,  and  grew  again 
To  utterance  of  passion.    Ye  cannot  shape 
Fancy  so  fair  as  is  this  memory. 
Hethonght  all  excellence  that  ever  was 
Had  drawn  herself  from  many  thousand 

years. 
And  all  the  separate  Edens  of  this  earth. 
To   centre  in  this  place  and  time.     I 

listened, 
Ajid  her  words  stole  with  most  prevailing 

sweetness 
Into  my  heart,  as  thronging  fancies  come 
To  boys  and  girls  when  summer  days  are 

new. 
And  soul  and  heart  and  body  are  all  at 

ease: 
What  marvel  my  Camilla  told  me  all  ? 
It  was  so  happy  an  hour,  so  sweet  a  place, 
And  I  was  as  the  brother  of  her  blood. 
And  by  that  name  I  moved  upon  her 

breath; 
Dear  name,  which  had  too  much  of  near- 
ness in  it 
And  heralded  the  distance  of  this  time  I 
At  first  her  voice  was  very  sweet  and  low, 
As  if  she  were  afraid  of  utterance ; 
But  in  the  onward  current  of  her  speech 
(As  echoes  of  the  hollow-banked  brooks 
Are  fashioned  by  the  channel  which  they 

keep), 
Her  words  did  of  their  meaning  borrow 

sound. 
Her  cheek  did  oatoh  the  color  of  her  words. 
I  heard  and  trembled,  yet  I  could  but  hear ; 
My  heart  paused— my  raised  eyelids  would 

not  fall, 
Bat  still  I  kept  my  eyes  upon  the  sky. 
I  seem'd  the  only  pirt  of  Time  stood  still. 
And  saw  the  motion  of  all  other  things ; 


While  her  words,  syllable  by  syllable. 
Like  water,  drop  by  drop,  upon  my  ear 
Fell ;  and  I  wish'd,  yet  wish'd  her  not  to 

^eak; 
But  she  spake  on,  for  I  did  name  no  wish. 
What  marvel  my  Camilla  told  me  all 
Her  maiden  dignities  of  Hope  and  Love — 
*' Perchance,"  she  said,  "  retum'd."  Even 

then  the  stars 
Did  tremble  in  their  stations  as  I  gazed  : 
But  she  spake  on,  for  I  did  name  no uiKh, 
No  wish— no  hope.    Hope  was  not  wholly 

dead. 
But  breathing  hard  at  the  approach  of 

Death, — 
Camilla,  my  Camilla,  who  was  mine 
No  longer  in  the  dearest  sense  of  mine — 
For  all  the  secret  of  her  inmost  heart. 
And  all  the  maiden  empire  of  her  mind, 
Lay  like  a  map  before  me,  and  I  saw 
There,  where  I  hoped  myself  to  reign  as 

king, 
There,  where  that  day  I  crown'd  myself 

as  king, 
There  in  my  realm  and  even  on  my  throne. 
Another!    Then  it  scem'd  as  tho'  a  link 
Of  some  tight  chain  within  my  inmost 

frame 
Was  riven  in  twain  :  that  life  I  heeded  not 
Fiow'd  from  me,  and  the  darkness  of  the 

grave, 
The  darkness  of  the  grave  and  utter  night. 
Did  swallow  up  my  vision ;  at  her  feet. 
Even  the  feet  of  her  I  loved,  I  fell. 
Smit  with  exceeding  sorrow  unto  Death. 

Then  had  the  earth  beneath  me  yawning 

cloven 
With  such  a  sound  as  when  an  iceberg 

splits 
From  cope  to  base — had  Heaven  from  all 

her  doors. 
With  all  her  golden  thresholds  clashing, 

roll'd 
Her  heaviest  thunder— I  had  lain  as  dead. 
Mute,  blind  and  motionless  as  then  I  lay ; 
Dead,  for  henceforth  there  was  no  life  for 

mo! 
Mute,  for  henceforth  what  use  were  words 

to  me ! 
Blind,  for  the  day  was  as  the  night  to 

me! 
The  night  to  me  was  kinder  than  the  day ; 
The  night  in  pity  took  away  my  day, 
Because  my  grief  as  yet  was  newly  born 
Of  eyes  too  weak  to  look  upon  the  light ; 
And  thro*  the  hasty  notice  of  the  ear 
Frail  Life  was  startled  from  the  tender 

love 
Of  him  she  brooded  over.    Would  I  had 

lain 
Until  the  plaited  ivy-tress  had  wound 
Round  my  worn  limbs,  and  the  wild  brier 

had  driven 
Its  knotted  thorns  thro*  my  nnpaining 

brows. 
Leaning  its  roses  on  my  faded  eyes. 
The  wind  had  blown  above  me,  and  the 

rain 


THE  LOVER'S  TALE. 


447 


Fair  speech  Teas  his  and  delicate  of  phrase. 
Falling  in  whispers  on  the  sense,  addreRs'd 
More  to  the  inward  than  the  outward  ear, 
As  rain  of  the  midsummer  michiight  soft, 
B<»urce  heard,  recalling  fragrance  and  the 

srecn 
Of  the  dead  spring :  but  mine  was  wholly 

dead, 
No  bud,  no  leaf,  no  flower,  no  fruit  for 

me. 
Yet  who  had  done,  or  who  had  suffered 

wrong? 
And  why  was  I  to  darken  their  pure  love, 
If,  as  I  found,  they  two  did  love  each 

other. 
Because  my  own  was  darkenM?     Why 

was  I 
To  cross  between  their  happy  star  and 

them? 
To  stand  a  shadow  by  their  shining  doors. 
And  vex  them  with  my  darkness  ?    Did  I 

love  her  ? 
Ye  know  that  I  did  love  her ;  to  this  pre- 
sent 
Hy  fuU-orb'd  love  has  waned  not.    Did  I 

love  her, 
And  could  I  look  upon  her  tearful  eyes  ? 
What  had  she  done  to  weep  ?    Why  should 

she  weep? 

0  innocent  of  spirit — ^let  my  heart 
Break  rather — whom  the  gentlest  airs  of 

Heaven 
Should  kiss  with  an  unwonted  gentlcnesft. 
Her  love  did  murder  mine  ?    What  then  ? 

She  deem'd 

1  wore  a  brother^s  mind :  she  call'd  me 

brother : 
She  told  mo  all  her  love :  she  shall  not 
weep. 

The  brightness  of  a  burning  thought, 

awhile 
la  battle  with  the  glooms  of  my  dark 

will, 
Sloon-like  emei^ed,  and  to  it<:elf  lit  up 
There  on  the  depth  of  an  unfathom^d  woe 
Beflex  of  action.    Starting  up  at  once. 
As  from  a  di<nnal  dream  of  my  own  death, 
1,  for  I  loved  her,  lost  my  love  in  Love : 
I,  for  I  loved  her,  graspt  the  hand  she 

lov'd. 
And  laid  it  In  her  own,  and  sent  my  cry 
Thro^  the  blank  night  to  Him  who  lovmg 

made 
The  happy  and  the  unhappy  love,  that  He 
Would  hold  the  hand  of  blessing  over 

them, 
Lionel,  the  liappy,  and  her,  and  her,  his 

bride  1 
Let  them  so  love  that  men  and  boys  may 

say, 
"  Lo  1  how  they  love  each  other  I "  till 

their  love 
Shall  ripen  to  a  proverb,  unto  all 
Known,  when  their  faces  are  forgot  in  the 

land- 
One  golden  dream  of  love,  from  which 

may  death 

Awake  them  with  heaven^s  musi'^  in  a  life 
Kore  living  to  some  happier  happiness, 


Swallowing  its  precedent  in  victory. 
And  as  for  me,  Camilla,  as  for  me, — . 
The  dew  of  tears  is  an  unwholesome  dew. 
They  will  but  sicken  the  sick  plant  the 

more. 
Deem  that  I  love  thee  but  as  brothers  do, 
So  shalt  thou  love  me  still  as  sisters  do ; 
Or  if  thou  dream  aught  farther,  dream 

but  how 
I  could  have  loved  thee,  had  there  been 

none  else 
To  love  as  lovers,  loved  again  by  thee. 

Or  this,  or  somewhat  like  to  this,  I 

spake, 
When  I  beheld  her  weep  bo  ruefully ; 
For  sure  my  love  should  ne^er  indue  tho 

front 
And  mask  of  Hate,  vrho  lives^  on  others^ 

moans. 
Shall  Love  pledge  Hatred  in  her  bitter 

draughts. 
And  batten  on  her  poisons  ?    Love  forbid ! 
Love  passeth  not  the  threshold  of  cold 

Hate, 
And  Hate  is  ctrange  beneath  the  roof  of 

Love. 
O  Love,  if  thou  be'st  Love,  dry  up  these 

tears 
Shed  for  the  love  of  Love ;  lor  tho'  mine 

image, 
The  subject  of  thy  power,  be  cold  in  her. 
Yet,  like  cold  snow,  it  melteth  in  the 

source 
Of  these  Fad  tears,  and  feeds  their  do\vn> 

ward  flow. 
So  Love,  arraign'd  to  judgment  and  to 

death. 
Received  unto  himself  a  part  of  blame. 
Being  guiltless,  as  an  innocent  prisoner. 
Who,  when  the  woful  sentence  hath  been 

past. 
And  all  the  clearness  of  his  fame  hath 

gone 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  curse  of  man. 
First  falls  asleep  in  swoon,  wherefrom 

awaked. 
And   looking   round    upon    his    tearful 

friends, 
Forthwith  and  in  his  agony  conceives 
A  shameful  sense  as  of  a  cleaving  crime — 
For  whence  without  some  guilt  should 

such  grief  be  ? 

So  died  that  hour,  and  fell  into  the 

abysm 

Of  forms  outworn,  but  not  to  me  outworn. 

Who  never  haiPd  another — was  there  one  ? 

There  might  be  one — one  other,  worth  the 

life 
That  made  it  sensible.    So  that  hour  died 
Like  odor  rapt  into  the  winged  wind 
Borne  into  alien  lands  and  far  away. 

There  be  some  hearts  so  airily  built,  that 

they. 
They — when  their  love  is  wreck''d — if  Love 

can  wreck — 
On  that  sharp  ridge  of  utmost  doom  rid^ 

highly 


\ 


It  <ru  [11  i< 

BKkot  a 


The  Miqc  oia   paths  y 


d 


u 

inffsle 

.  l.D.c,-nU 

Bsmt»ih3  b-* 

Th 

Mpulchre  o 

SjrnipMtiyl 

pleOMit,  Bnd  111 
wnidBlno   HucUi 

10  noisy  brook  bencUh. 


\jtii  yet  h  ihQok  qm,  that  my  fnuM  i 

In  i( -t  were' drawn  Munafr  ta  Uio  IM*. 
lut  over  the  deep  giavea  at  Uopa  (04 


Mc     msm^idls.    rtriU- 


Wliy  Brew  wa  then  logelht 


It  \^  out  v\ot,'*    VQ^AXiU^ira-l 


1^\AX:au^-4a£uf^vu^.^uailA  iUdltLlikG^ 


THE  LOVERS  TALE. 


449 


And  fnaed  together  in  the    tyrannous 

light— 
Knins,  the  min  of  all  my  life  and  mo  t 

Sometimes  I  thought  Camilla  was  no 

more, 
Some  one  bad  told  she  was  dead,  and  ask*d 

me 
If  I  would  see  her  burial ;  then  I  peemM 
To  rise,  and  through  the  forest-shadow 

borne 
With  more  than  mortal  swiftness,  1  ran 

down 
The  steepy  sea-bank,  till  I  came  upon 
The  rear  of  a  procefi^ion,  curving  round 
The  silver- sheeted  bay:  in  front  of  which 
Six  stately  virgins,  all  in  white,  npbare 
A  broad  earth-sweeping  pall  of  whitest 

lawn. 
Wreathed  round  the  bier  with  garlands: 

in  the  distance. 
Prom  out  the  yellow  woods  upon  the  hill 
Looked  forth  the  summit  and  the  pinnacles 
Of  a  gray  steeple— thence  at  intervals 
A  low  bell  tolling.    All  the  iiageantry. 
Save  those  six  virgins  which  upheld  the 

bier. 
Were  stoled  from  head  to  foot  in  flowing 

black ; 
One  walkM  abreast  with  mc,  and  vcil'd 

his  brow, 
And  he  was  loud  in  weeping  and  in  praise 
Of  her  he  follow'd :  a  strong  sympathy 
Shook  all  my  soul :  1  tlung  myself  upon 

him 
In  tears  and  cries :  I  told  him  all  my  love, 
Uow  I  had  loved  her  from   the   first; 

whereat 
He  shrank  and  howlM,  and  from  his  brow 

drew  back 
His  hand  to  push  me  from  him ;  and  the 

face. 
The  very  face  and  form  of  Lionel 
Flashed  thro  my  eyes  into  my  innermost 

brain, 
And  at  hiis  feet  I  seemed  to  faint  and  fall, 
To  fell  and  die  away.    I  could  not  rise 
Albeit  I  strove  to  follow.    They  past  on. 
The  lordly  Phantasms  1  in  their  floating 

folds 
They  past  and  were  no  more :  but  I  had 

fallen 
Prone  by  the  dashing  runnel  on  the  grass, 

Alway  the  inaudible  invisible  thought 
Artificer  and  subject,  lord  nnd  slave. 
Shaped  by  the  audible  and  visible. 
Moulded  the  audible  and  visible ; 
All  crisped  sounds  of  wave  and  leaf  and 

wind 
Flattered  the  fancy  of  my  fading  brain ; 
The  cloud-pavilion'd  element,  the  wood. 
The  mountain,  the  three  cypresses,  the 

cave, 
Storm,  mnaet,  glows  and  glories  of  the 

moon 
Below  black  firs,   when   silent-creeping 

winds 
Laid  the  long  night  in  silver  streaks  and 

ban^ 


Were  wrought  into   the   tissue   of  my 

dream : 
The  meanings  in  the  forest,  the   loud 

brook. 
Cries  of  the  partridge  like  a  rusty  key 
Tum'd  in  a  lock,  owl-whoop  and  dor- 
hawk-whir 
Awoke  me  not.  but  were  a  part  of  sleep. 
And  voices  in  the  distance  calling  to  me 
And  in  my  vision  bidding  mc  drexm  on. 
Like  sounds  without  the  twilight  reaUn  of 

dreams. 
Which  wander  round  the  bases  of  the 

hUls, 
And  murmur  at  the  low-dropt  eaves  of 

sleep. 
Half-entering  the  portals.    Oftentimes 
The  vision  had  fair  prelude,  in  the  end 
Opening  on  darkness,  stateiy  vestibules 
To  caves  and  shows  of  Death :  whether 

the  mind, 
With  some  revenge,— even  to  itself  nn« 

known, — 
Made  strange  division  of  its  Buffering 
With  her,  whom  to  have  suSenng  view*d 

had  been 
Extrcmest  pain;  or  that  the  clear-eyed 

Spirit. 
Being  blunted  in  the  Present,  grew  at 

length 
Prophetical  and  prescient  of  whate'er 
The  Future  had  in  store :  or  tiiai  which 

most 
Enchains  belief,  the  sorrow  of  my  spirit 
Was  of  so  wide  a  cumiMisrt  it  took  in 
All  I  had  loved,  and  my  dull  agtmy, 
Ideally  to  her  transferrM,  became 
Anguish  intolerable. 

The  day  waned ; 
Alone  I  sat  with  her :  about  my  brow 
Her  warm  breath  floated  in  the  utterance 
Of  silver-chorded  tones:  her  lips  were 

sundei-'d 
With    smiles   of   tranquil   bliss,    which 

broke  in  light 
Like  morning  from  her  eyes — her  elo- 

quent  eyes 
(As  I  have  seen  them  many  a  hundred 

times), 
Filled  all  with  pure  clear  fire,  thro'  mine 

down  rain'd 
Their   spirit-searching  splendors.    As  a 

vision 
Unto  a  haggard  prisoner,  iron-stayed 
In  damp  and  dismal  dungeons   under- 
ground. 
Confined  on  points  of  faith,  when  strength 

is  shocked 
With  torment,  and  expectancy  of  worse 
Upon  the  morrow,  thro'  the  ragged  walls. 
All  unawares  before  his  half-shut  eyes, 
Comes  in  n\\on  him  in  the  dead  of  night. 
And  with  the  excess  of  sweetness  and  of 

awe. 
Makes  the  heart  tremble,  and  the  sight 

run  over 
Upon  his  steely  gyves ;  so  those  fair  eyes 
Shone  on  my  darkness,  forms  which  evcx 

stood 
Within  the  magic  cirque  of  memory. 


V 


1c  bnt  Anthleo.  mltinii  j<mi 
:^Uier  WHSthemliTon.  Km 


THE  LOVER'S  TALE. 

Tinpty  phantom:  i 


It  wsi  ■  nam 

He. 

dund  trith  jninCiogs  at  the  »&, 


«gi> 


01   tricndsbip,  Epokca   at  vftb   lurtu 


Tile  Indiin  on 
It«l  under  ua,  n 


nnfld   SBd  TBSt,   o 


■dpHdrtlly;  the  wind 


td  putted  ]li»  which  drank  her  bn^ntt 


Ths  rlppUnit  1e 


ifl  dflrK  :ind  dhppLnj; 


om  templB  niiiD   irniplo.     To 
height 


■thought  by  Blow  dnoTTS  thp  milcn  hell 


Trod  nrifter  itcpg;  and  wblZu  I  walk' 

In  marvel  at  ttat  grednnl   chBDi;e. 
thought 

In  oLmgini;  codenn  Juigllpi;  peal  o 
A  IcLiff  Iciid  clnHh  cf  rapid  matrliun  belli 


( 


Lapwd  lata  f rlffhtfiit  stiUuw ;  (ho  aivco 
tbnndtir  into  TrhUpcn,  ttaoie  ilx 
^riQliH  and  liaBiiic  tauflhtef  on  1h« 


THE  LO  VERS  TALE. 


45t 


Wiaiting  to  nee  the  settled  countenance 
Of  her  I  lov*d,  adom'd  with  fading  flovr> 

ers. 
Bat  she  from  ont  her  death-like  chrysalis, 
She  from  her  bier,  as  into  fresher  life, 
My  sister,  and  my  cousin,  and  my  love. 
Leapt  lightly  clad  in  bridal  white->her 

hair 
Studded  with  one  rich  Provence  rose—a 

light 
Of  smiling  welcome  round  her  lips — her 

eyes 
And  cheeks  as  bright  as  when  she  climb'd 

the  hill. 
One  hand  she  reached  to  those  that  camo 

behind, 
And  while  I  mused  nor  yet  endured  to 

take 
So  rich  a  prize,  the  man  who  stood  with 

me 
Stept  gayly  forward,  throwing  down  his 

robes. 
And  claspt  her  hand  in  his:  again  the 

bells 
Jangled  and  clang'd:  again  the  stormy 

surf 
Crashed  in  the  shingle :  and  the  whirling 

rout 
Led  by  those  two  rush'd  into  dance,  and 

fled 
Wind-footed  to  the  steeple  in  the  woods. 
Till   they  were   swallowed  in  the  l^y 

bowers. 
And  I  stood  sole  betide  the  vacant  bier. 

There,  there,  my  latest  vision — ^then  the 
event  1 

IV. 

THE  GOLDEN  8T7FPSB. 

{Another  tpeaks,) 

He  flics  the  event :  he  leaves  the  event  to 

me; 
Foor  Julian— how  he  mshM  away ;  the 

bells, 
Those  marriage  bells,  echoing  in  ear  and 

heart — 
But  cast  a  parting  glance  at  me,  ynu  saw. 
As  who  should  say  *'  Contiiiu »."    Well,  he 

had 
One  golden  hour— of  triumph  shall  I  say  ? 
Solace  at  least— before  he  loft  his  home. 

Would  you  had  seen  him  in  ttiat  hour  of 

his! 
He  moved  thro*  all  of  it  majestically — 
liestrain'd  himself  quite  to  the  close— but 

now — 

Whether  they  toere  his  lady's  marriage 

bells. 
Or  prophets  of  them  in  his  fantasy, 
I  never  asked :  but  Lionel  and  the  girl 
Were  wedded,  and  our  Julian  came  again 
Back  to  his  mother^s  house  among  the 

pines. 
But  these,  their  gloom,  the  mountains  and 

the  bay 


The  whole  land  weighed  him  down  ai 

^tna  does 
The  Giant  of  Mythology :  he  would  go, 
Would  leave  the  land  forever,  and  had 

gone 
Surely,  but  for  a  whisper,  "  Go  not  yet," 
Some  warning — sent  divinely,  as  it  seemed 
By  that  which  followed,  but  of  this  I  deem 
As  of  the  visions  that  he  told — ^the  event 
Glanced  back  upon  them  in  his  after-life. 
And  partly  made  them,  tho*  he  knew  it 

not. 

And  thus  he  stayed  and  would  not  look 

at  her — 
No,  not  for  months ;  but,  when  the  elev- 
enth moon 
^  After  th^ir  marriage  lit  the  lover's  bay, 
Heard  yet  once  more  the  tolling  bell,  and 

said. 
Would  yon  could  toll  me  out  of  life,  but 

found — 
All  softly  as  his  mother  broke  it  to  him— 
A  crueller  reason  than  a  crazy  ear. 
Fur  that  low  knell  tolling  his  lady  dead~> 
Dead— and  had  lain  three  days  without  a 

pulse; 
All  that  looked  on  her  had  pronounced  her 

dead. 
And  so  they  bore  her  (for  in  Julian's  land 
They  never  nail  a  dumb  head  up  in  elm)« 
Bore  her  free-faced  to  the  free  airs  of 

heaven. 
And  laid  her  in  the  vault  of  her  own  kin. 

What  did  he  then  ?  not  die :  he  is  here 
and  hale 

Not  plunge  head-foremost  from  the  moun- 
tain there^ 

And  leave  the  name  of  Lover's  Leap :  not 
he: 

He  knew  the  meaning  of  the  whisper  now. 

Thought  that  he  knew  it  **  This,  I  stayed 
for  this ; 

0  love,  I  have  not  seen  yon  for  so  long. 
Now,  now,  will  I  go  down  into  the  grave, 

1  will  be  all  alone  with  all  I  love, 

And  kiss  her  on  the  lips.    She  is  his  no 

more: 
The  dead  returns  to  me,  and  I  go  down 
To  kiss  the  dead." 

The  fancy  stirr'd  him  so 
He  rose  and  went,  and  entering  the  dim 

vault, 
And,  making  there  a  sudden  light,  beheld 
All  round  about  him  that  which  all  will 

be. 
The  light  was  but  a  flash,  and  went  again. 
Then  at  the  far  end  of  the  vault  he  saw 
His  lady  with  the  moonlight  on  her  face ; 
Her  breast  as  in  a  shadow-prison,  bars 
Of  black  and  bands  of  silver,  which  the 

moon 
Struck  from  an  open  grating  overhead 
High  in  the  waU,  and  all  the  rest  of  her 
Drown'd  in  the  gloom  and  horror  of  the 
•     vault. 

I 

*'  It  was  my  wish,"  he  said,  **  to  pas^ 
to  sleep. 


THE  LOVERS  TALE 


453 


Bnddenly  csmo  her  noiicef  and  wo  past, 
I  with  our  lover,  to  his  native  bay. 

This  love  is  of  the  brain,  the  mind,  the 

soul: 
That  makes  the  sequel  pure ;  tho^  some  of 

us 
Beginning  at  the  sequel  know  no  more. 
Not  such  am  I :  and  yet  I  say,  the  bird 
That  will  not  hear  my  call,  however  sweet, 
But  if  my  neighbor  whistle  answers  him— 
What  matter?   there  are  others  in  the 

wood. 
Yet  when  I  saw  her  (and  I  thought  him 

crazed, 
Tho'  not  with  such  a  craziness  as  needs 
A  cell  and  keeper),  those  dark  eyes  of 

hers — 
Oh !    such  dark  eyes !    and  not  her  eyes 

alone. 
But  all  from  these  to  where  she  touchM  on 

earth — 
For  such  a  craziness  as  Julianas  looked 
No  less  than  one  divine  aiwlogy. 

So  sweetly  and  so  modestly  she  came 
To  greet  us,  her  young  hero  in  her  arms  1 
*'  Kiss  him,"  she  said.     '•  You  gave  me 

life  again. 
He,  but  for  you,  had  never  seen  it  once. 
His  other  father   you !     Kiss   him,  and 

then 
Forgive  him,  if  his  name  bo  Julian  too.^* 

Talk  of  lost  hopes  and  broken  heart  1 
his  own 
Sent  such  a  flame  into  his  face,  I  knew 
Some  sudden  vivid  pleasure  hit  him  there. 

But  he  was  all  the  more  resolved  to  go. 
And  sent  at  once  to  Lionel,  praying  him, 
By  that  great  love  they  both  had  borne 

the  dead. 
To  come  and  revel  for  one  hour  with  him 
Before  he  left  the  land  for  evermore ; 
And  then  to  friends — they  were  not  many 

— who  lived 
Scatteringly  about  that  lonely  land  of  his, 
Aud  bade  them  to  a  banquet  of  farewells. 

And  Julian  made  a  solemn  feast:    I 

never 
Sat  at  a  costlier ;  for  all  round  his  hall 
From  column  on  to  colnmn,  as  in  a  wood, 
Not  such  as  here — an  equatorial  one, 
Great  garlands  swung  and  blossomed ;  and 

beneath, 
Heirlooms,  and  ancient  miracles  of  Art, 
Chalice  and  salver,  wines  that.  Heaven 

knows  when, 
Had  snckM  the  fire  of  some  forgotten  sun, 
And  kept  it  thro*  a  hundred  years   of 

gloom. 
Yet  glowing  In  a  heart  of  ruby — cups 
Where  nymph  and  god  ran  ever  round  in 

gold- 
Others  of  glass  as  costly — some  with  gems 
3Iovable  and  resettable  at  will. 
And  trebling  all  the  rest  in  value— Ah 

heavens  I 


Why  need  I  tell  yon  all  ?— suffice  to  say 
That  whatsoever  such  a  house  as  his. 
And  his  was  old,  has  in  it  rare  or  fair 
Was  brought  before  the  guest :  and  they, 

the  guests, 
Wonder'd  at  some  strange  light  In  Julian'f 

eyes 
(I  told  you  that  he  had  his  golden  hour). 
And  such  a  feast,  ill  suited  as  it  seemed 
To  such  a  time,  to  Lionel's  loss  and  his, 
And  that  resolved  self-exile  from  a  land 
He  never  would  revisit,  such  a  feast 
So  rich,  so  strange,  and  stranger  ev'n  than 

rich— 
But  rich  as  for  the  nuptials  of  a  king. 

And  stranger  yet,  at  one  end  of  the  hal? 
Two    great   funereal    curtains,    looping 

down. 
Parted  a  little  ere  they  met  the  floor. 
About  a  picture  of  his  lady,  taken 
Some  years  before,  and  falling  hid  the 

frame. 
And  just  above  the  parting  was  a  lamp : 
So  the  sweet  figure  folded  round  with  night 
Seem*d  stepping  out  of  darkness  with  • 

smile.  J 

Well  then— our   solemn  feast — we  ate 
and  drank. 
And  might— the  wines  being  of  such  no- 
bleness— 
Have  jested  also,  but  for  Julianas  eyes, 
And  something  weird  and  wild  about  It 

all: 
What  was  it  ?  for  our  lover  seldom  spoke, 
Scarce  touched  the  meats  ;  but  ever  and 

anon 
A  priceless  goblet  with  a  priceless  wine 
Arising,  show'd  he  drank  beyond  his  use ; 
And  when  the  feast  was  near  an  end,  he 
said: 

"There   is  a  custom  in   th«   Orient, 
friends — 
I  read  of  it  in  Persia— when  a  man 
Will  honor  those  who  feast  with  him,  he 

brings 
And  shows  them  whatsoever  he  accounts 
Of  all  his  treasures  the  most  beautiful, 
Gold,  jewels,  arms,  whatever  it  may  be. 
This  custom  "— 

Paufdng  here  a  moment,  all 
The  guests  broke  in  upon  him  with  meet- 
ing hands 
And  cries  about  the  banquet — **Beautl- 

ful! 
Who    could    desire   more   beauty  at   a 
feast?'' 

The  lover  answered,  "There  is  mora 

than  one 
Here  sitting  who  desires  it.    Laud  me 

not 
Before  my  time,  but  hear  me  to  the  close. 
This  custom  <teps  yet  farther  when  the 

guest 
Is  loved  and  honorM  to  the  uttermost. 
For  after  ho  hath  shown  him  gems  of 

goltl. 


7 


V 


^ 

^ 

454                            THE  LOVERS  TALE.                                    ] 

Bs  brInEi  uid  »U  before  him  In  rich 

And  beaiini  high  In  arma  «i»  mighty 

That  wbtch  li  thricfl  h  buntlful  u  thc'r. 

The  btiTuu-  ttat  i.  d™=»t  to  bli  hart" 

Willi  nucs,  none  »  rosy  as  hlmsolf— 

And  over  all  har  babe  and  her  the  jaweb 

•  E/n  my  heaiE,  too,'    And  I  ptopo»  to- 

(If DuinvRtnerationEaf  hia  lionas 

night 

gcarklttl  and  flaih'd,  for  he  bad  decked 

To  •hoif  jaa  what  ia  doorort  to  mj  heart, 

And  my  hart  Uo. 

As  fur  a  aolamn  aacrlflce  ot  lovo — 

Ha  she  eame  in:— I  am  lung  In  uIlhiQ  It, 

I  never  jet  beheld  a  thing  to  ttrange. 

He  hurt  o  (allhfnl  »erT»nl,  one  who  loved 

Bad,  iwoot,  and  strange  Wgether-floated 

lie  lialinK  ilalL  uid  Bseming  a]OH  oa 

dealh, 

HI.  .nwU^  WDnia  not  ™Lt  tinrU  ho  died. 

And  slowly  padng  to  tho  middle  hall. 

And  taa-'e  hLm  In  the  public  way  to  die 

Hard-heavInE.  and  her  ayes  upon  her  feet. 

I  Kneu,-  >n°th<r.  <iM  >«  lo,.g  .go  : 

Not  daring  yet  to  gl.inoe  at  I,lonel. 

Who  foaod  the  fljlng  icrvani,  look  hlia 

But  him  >hc  cairied,  blu  nor  light!  nor 

■^'^wTllfe''*  "^^^'^^''^  "'"^  '""'  ""^ 

^■'^ml'™""*'  ""  °^^  "'  °"°'  "'"' 

Only  u  u»  his  own.  nnd  Maring  wide 

.ilalm 

And  hnngoring  loc  tbo  gilt  and  JBWol'a 

world 

Abont  him.  look'd,  a.  lie  ia  Uke  W  p™«. 

hiilllo!" 

When  Jnhan  goes.  Iho  lord  ol  all  he  «w. 

1 

Thl.  qnertlon,  u  flang  flown  betor e  tho 

'■Mj  gi.Bsl^"  Hid  Julian:  "yoa  are 

gumu, 

hooof  d  no^ 

And  bulanced  either  way  hy  each,  nt 

Ev'ntotheutKnncst:  in  herhehold 

Wbe'T^™  w«redonbtrul  h™  ^rUw 

J 

0(  all  Cbings  umn  earth  the  daaren  lo 

■ 

■ 

Wa.  banded  o.er  by  oiti^nt  of  aU 

Tlien  waving  na  a  sign  lo  wat  oniaelves. 

■ 

To  one  who  bad  nut  tpotoo,  Lionel. 

And  1.  by  Lionel  sluing,  taw  fall  hoe 

1 

Talr  speech  wai  his,  and  flelkato  of 

Fire,  and  dead  aabes  and  all  Bn  agahi 

^ 

phra^. 

Thtlce  In  ■  Mcond.  felt  him  nwnhle  u». 

1 

And  he  beginning  langnldly— his  loss 

And  beard  him  muttarhiB,  "So  like,  to 

Woleh'd  on  hini  jot— but  wotming  bi  he 

like; 

She  never  had  11  elater.    Ikncwnona. 

Glanorf  at  Urn  polat  of  Uiw,  to  pass  it 
Amrmlng  tbut  u  long  at  eitlwr  livert, 

Some  oouslo  of  hia  and  hcn-O  Ood,  to 

And  then  ho  suddenly  aak'd  her  11  she 

By  all  toe  lawi  of  toie  and  gralelu1iu9i>i. 

T«-  «!r.loe  of  the  one  m  aaved  wh  due 

And  then  aomo  olhec  qaation'd  it  ska 

^  "  u"  "^"^  "'"""       "    "  '™''  '"^ 

From  foreign  1and^  and  atm  ahs  did  Dial 

will.- 

Tnii^thltr  oM^H^s'^wTa  om' a'liSrd, 

Then  Julian  made  s  secret  algn  to  me 

To  hnng  Camilla  down  boture  them  all. 

of  them 

Said,  ibuddering,  "Her  ipectnl"    Dut 

And  looking  a>  mnob  loirelSBr'niherMtf"' 

hIa  ftlend 

Replied,  in  halt  a  whiaper.  -Sot « lowl 

The  spectre  chat  will  apeak  If  xiKikun  ut. 

A  veil,  thai  eeeimd  no  more  tbau  gUded 

Terrible  pity.  It  one  en  heantlfnl 

Prove,  a.  1  almost  dnad  to   find  her. 

Tljlw  W  each  Bne  «r.  an  Hasten,  ganw 

ffilh  Beedfl  of  gDld^-(0,w1th  that  grace  ot 

bera, 

■BMt  Julian.  rittlBg  by  her.  ao.wM'd  an  r 

Tli«tflS,B.5ml"t«htaaltta«iB«.u-\        «.                                                      JJ 

1 

^B 

1 

TWO   OREETINQS. 


455 


That  faithful  servant  whom  we  spoke 
about, 

Obedient  to  her  second  master  now ; 

Which  will  not  last.  I  have  here  to-night 
a  guest 

So  bound  to  me  by  common  love  and  Iosm— 

What  I  shall  I  bind  him  more?  in  his  be- 
half, 

Shall  I  exceed  the  Persian,  giving  him 

That  which  of  all  things  is  the  dearest  to 
me, 

Not  only  showing?  and  ho  himself  pro- 
nounced 

That  my  rich  gift  is  wholly  mine  to  give. 

*'  Now  all  be  dumb,  and  promise  all  of 

you 
Not  to  break  in  on  what  I  say  by  word 
Or  whisper,  while  I  show  you  all  my  heart." 
And  then  befi^an  the  story  of  his  love 
As  bere  to-day,  but  not  so  wordily — 
The  passionate  moment  would  not  suffer 

that — 
Tast  thro'  his  visions  to  the  burial ;  thence 
Down  to  this  last  strange  hour  in  his  own 

hall; 
And  then  rose  up,  and  with  him  all  his 

guests 
Once  more  as  by  enchantment;  all  but  he, 
Lionel,  who  fain  had  risen,  but  fell  again. 
And  sat  as  if  in  chains — to  whom  he  said : 

"  Take  my  free  gift,  my  cousin,  for  your 
wife; 
And  were  it  only  for  the  giver's  sake, 


And  tho'  she  seem  so  like  the  one  you  lost, 

Yet  cast  her  not  away  so  suddenly. 

Lest  there  be  none  left  here  to  bring  her 

back: 
I  leave  this  land  forever.**  Here  he  ceased. 

Then  taking  his  dear  lady  by  one  hand. 
And  bearing  on  one  arm  the  noble  babe. 
He  slowly  brought  them  both  to  Lionel. 
And  there  the  widower  husband  and  dead 

wife 
Bush'd  each  at  each  with  a  cry,  that  rathet 

seem'd 
For  some  new  death  than  for  a  life  re- 

new'd ; 
Whereat  the  very  babe  began  to  wail ; 
Ac  once   they  turn'd,   and  caught  and 

brought  him  in 
To  their  charm'd  circle,  and,  half  killing 

him 
With  kisses,  round  him  closed  and  claspt 

again. 
But  Lionel,  when  at  last  he  freed  himself 
From  wife  and  child,  and  lifted  up  a  face 
All  over  glowing  with  the  sun  of  life, 
And  love,  and  boundless  thanks— the  sighfi 

of  this 
So  frighted  our  good  friend,  that,  turning 

to  me 
And  saying,  *'  It  is  over :  let  us  go'' — 
There  were  our  horses  ready  at  the  doors — 
We  bade  them  no  farewell,  but  mounting 

these 
He  past  forever  from  his  native  land ; 
And  I  with  him,  my  t)uUan,  back  to  mine* 


TWO  GREETINGS. 


I. 


Out  of  the  deep,  my  child,  out  of  the 

deep, 
Where  all  that  was  to  be  in  all  that  was 
Whirl'd  for  a  million  asons  thro'  the  vast 
Waste    dawn    of  multitudinous-eddying 

light- 
Out  of  the  deep,  my  child,  out  of  the 

deep, 
Thro'  all  this  changing  world  of  change- 
less law, 
And  every  phase  of  ever-heightening  life, 
And  nine  long  months  of  antenatal  gloom, 
With  this  last  moon,  this  crescent— her 

dark  orb 
Touch'd  with  earth's  light— thou  oomest, 

darling  boy ; 
Our  own ;  a  babe  in  lineament  and  limb 
Perfect,    and    prophet    of    the   perfect 

man; 


Whose  face  and  form  are  hers  and  mino 

in  one, 
Indissolubly  married  like  our  love ; 
Live  and  be  happy  in  thyself,  and  serve 
This  mortal  race  thy  kin  so  well  that  men 
May  bless  thee  as  we  bless  thee,  O  young 

life, 
Breaking  with  laughter  from  the  dark, 

and  may 
The  fated  channel  where  thy  motion  lives 
Be  prosperously  shai>ed,  and  sway  thy 

course 
Along  the  years  of  haste  and  random 

youth 
Unshatter'd,  then  full-current  thro'  full 

man, 
And  last  in  kindly  curves,  with  gentlest 

fall. 
By  quiet  fields,  a  slowly-dying  power. 
To  that  last  deep  where  we  and  thou  are 

fitiU.